


Until All the Secrets Have Gone Gasping into the World

by cairn



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Falling In Love, Inspired by Labyrinth (1986), Romance, Slow Burn, sylvain has a lot of fun being a fae
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 54,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27054238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cairn/pseuds/cairn
Summary: Annette doesn’t believe in the Fae. Not anymore. Or, at least, she doesn’t believe in them right up to the point that she discovers her favorite childhood story is true when she accidentally wishes away her best friend to the Fae.Felix can’t believe he’s been summoned by a human. He really can’t believe that the stubborn human woman is risking her life to travel to the land of the Fae in order to bring her best friend back to the human world. And he really, absolutely, entirely will not believe that he is falling in love with her.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic & Mercedes von Martritz, Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 64
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A brief introduction: I admit to taking inspiration from Scottish and Irish folklore, the 80's film Labyrinth, and the lovely KL Morgan fanfic inspired by Labyrinth, "A Forfeit of Dreams". You don’t need to know anything about Labyrinth or the fanfic to read and enjoy this story, and this story does not follow the plot of either. 
> 
> Please enjoy.

"After many trials, after so many difficulties, I am here." Annette took a step forward, carefully, holding herself upright and dignified. "And despite all of your best efforts, everything you've tried to do - I've won. You have to admit it."

Annette took another step forward, chin raised. "You owe me my sister, and you owe me my freedom."

"Goodness," Mercedes said.

"You will never keep me here forever!" Annette said loudly, brandishing the book like a weapon. "Never!"

"Oh my," Mercedes said, giggling. "Is that what happens? The protagonist attacks the king of fairies with a storybook?"

"He's the _General_ of the _Fae_ , Mercie, it's like an army general thing," Annette corrected, immediately breaking character to turn to her best friend, "and, _no,_ obviously it's not with a storybook, it's a lot more dramatic. You know. She goes around the whole Faerie Court, and solves the Fae King's trials, and there's a lot of drama, and she has to save her sister from death and save herself being doomed to marry the man - Fae - forever!"

Somehow, they'd gotten here. After a long semester at Garreg Mach University, she and Mercedes had finished up with their finals and, at Mercedes's suggestion, had brought books with them to read on a picnic blanket in one of the parks surrounding the university. It had been a classic Mercedes suggestion: picturesque and peaceful. Annette had brought her favorite, well-worn book from childhood (and, if she was honest with herself, adolescence as well) - a fairytale that her mother had given her ages ago, which she absolutely adored, but Mercie had never heard of before. It hadn’t been surprising, really – Annette hadn’t heard of anyone else who had heard of the book, but nonetheless, Mercedes's casual admission of ignorance had incited Annette into starting to give a (poor) plot summary, which had devolved into a recitation of the final scene, and then had devolved into this.

"It is very dramatic," Mercedes agreed, smoothing her skirt with one hand. "Very Hades-Persephone."

"It is not," Annette protested. "She never marries him! She saves her sister and kills the General and leaves. It's very fulfilling. Very female empowerment. No 'you will spend half your life in a dungeon forever because you ate some fruit.'"

Mercedes giggled. "I see."

"And," Annette continued, feeling the need to justify her childhood literature choices, "my mother used to tell me this story was true, and it had just happened a long time ago, when the Fae interacted more with humans."

"Hmm." Mercedes humored the thought with a small smile. "Did they just lose their visas to the human world recently, then?"

"Oh, stop." Annette huffed. "I really did believe in all this when I was younger, you know. My mother used to say that we had to leave out a bowl of milk for the brownies so they'd help with the household chores. Father hated it because he thought it was encouraging me to leave the faith."

"It is a bit of an oddity, these days, to believe in fairies," Mercedes agreed.

"I don't know if she really believed." Annette laid backwards in the grass, looking up at the blue sky. "I think it was just tradition."

"Mm. Maybe we should start laying out milk in our apartment. Do you think fairies would vacuum for me? I hate vacuuming." Mercedes grinned.

Annette flushed slightly. Her friend almost never poked fun at her, so this was truly a lot of teasing for Mercedes. "Ugh. Maybe it is stupid. I just used to be obsessed with this story."

"No, I think it's adorable that you still have the ending scene memorized," Mercedes said. Annette could tell that she was still smiling just from her voice. 

"It is dumb," Annette said, dropping the open book over her face. "Ugh. I can't believe I made you listen to that."

"No! It was so, so cute. You got so excited," Mercedes said. "I thought it was very cute."

Annette could tell she was turning red underneath the book's pages. 

"You didn't explain how they got in that mess, though," Mercedes pointed out. "Was she just picking flowers in the field and the fairy saw her and instantly fell in love?"

"Fae!" Annette said, muffled by the book.

"Fae," Mercedes amended.

Annette sat up, removing the book from her face. "No. She was… she got mad at her sister and wished her away, basically."

"Wished her away?"

Annette was ready, having memorized this section of the story as well. "Like: 'By my own will I call the General of the Fae, for I wish my sister to the Faerie Court away!'"

"It rhymes?" Mercedes said. Annette could hear the politely suppressed amusement in her voice. 

"A lot of it rhymes," Annette admitted, wincing slightly. "It is a kid's book."

"I see." Mercedes heaved her tote bag before her and began sorting through it.

"Please don't tell me you're going to tell me to read something more productive," Annette said, flopping back into the grass with a sigh. "Just because you want to read Pride and Prejudice again doesn't mean I want to read anything more challenging than this kid's book."

"No, we agreed to read whatever we wanted!" Mercedes grinned. "After a whole semester of studying, we can read whatever we want. Isn't that the whole point of coming out here?"

"Absolutely." Annette smiled back and opened her book. She heard the rustle of pages as Mercedes opened up her own book, and a few quiet seconds passed.

And then an abrupt gust of wind suddenly blasted between them, thoroughly mussing Annette's hair and almost knocking the book from her hands. Mercedes shrieked and Annette sat up to see her friend's battered copy of Pride and Prejudice flip onto its side, pages flapping wildly, as her friend's arms went up to shield herself from the gale. There was a sudden, pungent smell - like cloves, or spices, or pine. Something Annette had smelled, once, but couldn’t place. Another gust of wind ripped through the area, and Annette had actually held a hand up to her face to protect herself, as well, squeezing her eyes shut as the wind roared in her ears and dust and dirt whipped her face and arms, because Goddess, wind really never was this strong, and they were in the middle of an open field, not a tiny mountain pass or the middle of a typhoon. 

And then it stopped. The smell, weirdly, remained. Annette lowered her hand. 

Mercedes's tote bag was tipped over, her water bottle open and spilling its contents onto the ground. Her keys and phone were glinting in the sun just to the side of the bag. Pride and Prejudice was still fluttering slightly in the wind. 

And Mercie was gone.

"Mer-" Annette didn't even have words. "Me-Mercedes?"

She stood up and spun around but was only faced with empty grass, the remainder of campus having emptied after classes had ended. Only a few trees, some streets in the distance, some buildings, but no cover to which Mercedes could have ostensibly hidden behind. And that smell was still clinging to the air.

"Hello?" Annette turned around again, as though expecting to find something behind her. "Mercie? Mercie! _Mercie!_ "

There really was no logical explanation. Annette was a fan of logic, but there was something here that just would not add up. Her best friend hated running, and even if she didn't, she would not have just run away during a bizarre, impossible gust of wind that had been practically hurricane-strength. Wind of that ferocity did not just randomly blow through a very specific space of open landscape. And there had been that weird smell that she couldn't explain, that hadn't been pushed away by the wind. And… And Mercedes was gone. 

Annette really did _not_ believe in magic. Or Fae. Not anymore. She enjoyed the book - she always had. It had been a source of comfort and escapism as a child, to believe herself like the protagonist in the story, whose idiocy at the beginning of the book in wishing away her sister was redeemed through the struggle to recover her sister from the villainous General of the Fae. Annette often made mistakes, and it had been reassuring to read a story in which these mistakes were so heroically fixed. But fantasy was just that: fantasy. Something her father had scoffed at, when he had still lived with them, and she had learned to as well, if it existed anywhere else outside of a book.

Even so, she had no explanation for what had just occurred. Science did not seem to make sense of it, if what Annette knew about science held up. And, if anything about the Fae or the book was true, she had asked the Fae to take away her sister. And Mercedes was practically her sister, if you didn't count blood. 

"Um." Annette shivered. "Um. Fae? Can you hear me?"

There was no grand response. The pages of the books, both discarded, below her, turned in the gentlest breeze. 

"Hello?" Annette tried again. "Please - please - give Mercie back."

Annette turned around, just in case, but saw nothing besides grass and her own bag. She bit her lip. Because this was ridiculous. And she was being ridiculous.

"G-General of the Fae," Annette attempted, feeling absolutely foolish. She thought for a moment, recalling the character's actual, rarely-used name from the book. "Um. Fraldarius?"

It had been a subtle shift. Like an odd pressure in the air just behind her. The back of her neck prickled. Annette turned immediately. and was met with cold, otherworldly eyes.

The man before her was not particularly tall, or menacing in any conventional way. He was fairly thin, albeit lithe in a way that promised muscle. His clothing was almost entirely black or blue, and there were two swords at his waist (which was the first truly bizarre thing, if you ignored the whole 'appearing out of thin air' thing, because no one carried medieval swords on their person). His face was incredibly, almost impossibly, beautiful, with high cheekbone and eyes that were brown, or auburn, or... red. (Annette tried not to think about red. Red eyes were for horror movies and bad TV dramas. No one’s eyes were really red. It had been a trick of the light.) He had long black hair that he had tied up in a ponytail. And the second truly bizarre (terrifying, crazy, impossible, impossible, impossible) thing was that this hairstyle, on this man, revealed pointed ears. 

The man’s eyes on her were first wide, and then narrowed slowly as she continued to stand there, shocked.

"Well?" the man asked. "You called me." 

"Uh." Annette could feel her brain struggling to compute the person before her. Because Fae didn't exist, and yet this was clearly a corporeal, actual, physical being before her.

"I don't have all day." The man folded his arms. "Spit it out."

"You… I said… I said 'General of the Fae' earlier and nothing happened. Like, I said it years ago, too," Annette said, because somehow this had been the first coherent thought. “I – I said Fraldarius, too, years ago, because of that book.”

The man blinked at her. 

"Are… you even real?" Annette's mouth finally caught up with her original train of thought. "Hold on, what about Mercedes? Please, wait, what about my friend - what happened?"

"You summoned me to take your sister to the Faerie Court. I took her." The man held her gaze. “You can hardly expect me to answer your other question.”

"Wait, h-hold on," Annette said, struggling for words but certain that she could fix this, somehow. "I - I didn't ask for that. And Mercedes isn't my sister. I was just reciting something. I didn't mean it. I love Mercie. I would never want to wish her away."

"You said it." The man shrugged. "I can't change it now. You spoke it, it's done."

"But I - I've recited that before." Annette had read the book out before, multiple times, as a child. "I was just - I was quoting a _book._ "

"I don't dictate the rules of magic," the man said, turning slightly.

"Wait, please, wait-" Annette immediately reached out and grabbed his wrist. The man tensed beneath her, eyes flicking to hers and -

When she met his eyes, she felt an odd sense of power emanating from him. Some bizarre sense that she should not be touching him. She released his arm and whatever strange sensation had come over her abruptly ceased. 

"I'll -" Annette paused, thoughts still jumbled and slightly reeling from… whatever that had been. "I didn't wish her away. Please - please, please, just give her back."

"You did wish her away or I wouldn't have taken her. And I can't give her back." The man snorted. "I wish I could. Believe me, I don't want to have some idiot human to care for."

"Please," Annette had said, louder this time, barely caring if he could tell how desperate she was. "Please. I'll do anything. I'll do whatever it takes. She shouldn't be - it's my fault. I - I didn't wish her away. Please - stop. Please give her back."

"Do whatever you want. You can't change the wish. She's part of our Court." The man rolled his eyes and her and turned away again. "This is pointless."

And then he was gone. 

* * *

"Is that a human woman?" 

Of course it was fucking Sylvain who would find him, dragging the woman through the back passages of the Court. 

"A _human? Woman?_ " The redhead emerged from one of the hallways just before him, his shock practically palpable even from a distance. The grin that slowly descended on his face was something from Felix's nightmares.

"Shut _up,_ Sylvain." Felix had one hand around the woman's upper arm and was pulling her along beside him without much fuss on her part. The polite thing to do was glamor her, which he had done. He hadn't quite specified much about the glamor besides 'you are in a place that is safe, and you trust me and everyone else we may encounter.' It was working because the woman wasn't protesting as he led her, but was instead oddly silent with a dazed look on her face: the typical human response to glamor.

He'd hidden her for two days in one of the small guardhouses outside of the Court that he was entitled to use, as the General, and had awoken halfway through each of the nights with an incredible headache. He'd known what the headache was about as soon as he'd awoken that first night: because the woman wasn't in the Court. Since the wish that this human's sister had made stated that the woman must be a part of the Court, he had been breaking the oath, and the magic had pressed painfully against him. And so he was here, dragging the woman into the Court, and apparently directly into Sylvain's field of view.

"Really, Felix. What kind of fantasy are you harboring and taking out on this poor creature?"

"I didn’t ask for this," Felix said. Because it was fucking true.

Sylvain raised an eyebrow.

"She was wished to the Court," Felix said flatly. "By my title."

"What?" Sylvain had begun walking beside him, as though it wasn't enough drama for the General of the Fae to be dragging a human woman alongside him – the Margrave just _had_ to join in - but at Felix's words he stopped short. "What is this? The sixteenth century?"

"I don't keep track of human years," Felix said, turning a corner. Sylvain followed.

"When was the last time someone wished you their sibling? Anyone?" Sylvain snorted. "Who believes in us anymore?"

"Why would I know?" 

This had been an evasion of truth, because Felix had seen her. It had been a young woman, but she had definitely not looked related to the person she'd wished away, despite the fact that the magic had apparently accepted the words as truth. And, most notably, he'd recognized her. Because this girl - although she looked older than a girl, at this point, for humans aged so quickly - this woman had been the one who had spoken his name multiple times in the past. 

"Well, I, for one, think it's good you're taking a human consort. You were weirdly obsessed with that human who used to pay attention to you. Maybe this one will distract you," Sylvain said, poking the woman's arm gently. Her dull eyes turned to look at him and she smiled, blankly. 

"She is not my _consort,"_ Felix hissed, pulling the woman a touch closer in case Sylvain decided to get handsy, "and I was not obsessed with any human."

"Oh really." Sylvain laced his hands behind his head. "Just a few short years ago? You don't recall? Some girl was reading a story about that lady who came down here and killed your ancestor or whatever? She said your name a few times, and you definitely were being creepy and spying on her. Ingrid found you out, remember?"

"It was reconnaissance," Felix said, voice rising despite himself.

"Sure." Sylvain rolled his eyes. "Using that little orb you got from Dimitri in order to oversee the Court to just casually check in on a human girl? That's not spying, that's just misappropriation of property you're supposed to be using for the benefit of our King." 

Felix snorted. "You've used yours to look in on random Court member bedchambers."

" _That_ is a rumor," Sylvain said, "because if I wanted to be in someone's bedchambers, I could be. Easily." 

Felix snorted again.

"Anyways, I don't hear you denying it," Sylvain added, following him into a small passageway that all three of them had to duck to go through. Felix had lowered the woman's head with his other hand, just in case. Enchanted humans didn't always think clearly.

It hadn't been spying. Not in the way Sylvain made it out to be. "Humans don't say our names anymore. _No one_ should know my true name, if it wasn't for that fucking story."

Sylvain snorted. "Sure, maybe the first time you were worried and wanted to see who it was. But really, checking in repeatedly on a human girl? You, threatened by a human who doesn't even believe you exist?"

Felix's mouth curled unpleasantly.

To be fair, the girl had been pretty. Young, but pleasant in the way that you could tell would one day become beautiful. Orange hair, bright blue eyes, a scattering of freckles. And she had been reading that story - the one he suspected had been written because that cursed human woman, who had somehow killed his ancestor, had told the story to other humans, who then had made it into some sort of myth or legend, one that conveniently (and infuriatingly) included his true name. And, in reciting the story, the young girl had spoken his true name. 

He'd watched through the little glass sphere that, in all honesty, should have been (and mostly was) used for more serious things, as she had reenacted the scenes from the story, sometimes playing both parts, sometimes making some sort of stuffed toy to be the villain of the piece. She had occasionally sung. It had been the singing, really, that had made him listen in on her - because, despite the banality of her life, her voice had been something that had stopped Felix in his tracks. But over time, she had stopped saying his name, and he had stopped paying attention. The one exception was once, fairly recently, when she had been older, almost a woman, and had said his title while crying in bed, said that she could almost wish he would take her away, in such a tone he'd known she had been making fun of herself - some kind of dark humor. 

Technically, he could have answered the wish, since it was spoken aloud. But it was not Felix's place to intrude upon the human world. Not unless directly summoned. When Dimitri had ascended to the throne, he had made it fairly clear that they were not allowed to wantonly toy with humans. Humans were allowed in the Court, if they had somehow found their way there. Some humans joined because of their gifts with music or dancing. Some joined as consorts or lovers. Before Dimitri's reign, some had joined as slaves, glamored into believing their tasks were worthwhile and that they had enjoyable lives. Dimitri had put an end to this, and it had been rare for humans to descend to the Court Under the Hill in recent years, outside of the odd musician.

"What are you going to do with her, then?" Sylvain asked.

Felix frowned again. 

"You will have to explain it to her, you know," Sylvain said. "You can't glamor her like this for much longer."

Felix had kept walking, frown deepening.

"You don't know, do you," Sylvain said flatly.

"It wasn't like I planned for this," Felix said, feeling his temper rise despite himself. "If I -"

"You could give her to Ingrid's company," Sylvain said. "You know. Ladies tending pegasi all day. Maybe she'd be interested. And Ingrid would do right by her. She’s adopted other human women."

"She's supposed to be a part of the Court," Felix said. "That's what the wish commands."

"Ingrid's knights are a part of the Court," Sylvain said, shrugging. "But, hey, you're the one who has to figure out what to do with her. Not me."

"I'm aware -"

A sudden tug on his consciousness caused him to stop abruptly. Only Sylvain's fast reflexes prevented him from knocking straight into him. Felix felt the odd prickle of knowledge run over him. That woman was calling his name again. His true name.

"What -" Sylvain protested.

"It's nothing." Felix kept walking, faster this time, as though he could avoid -

And the tug yanked on him again, more aggressively this time. He let out a fast breath through his nose, turned, and pushed the human he had been leading towards Sylvain. "Hold onto her for a second."

The tug pulled all the more aggressively on him, almost knocking the wind from his lungs. His head rang with some distant, tinny noise. Felix paused for a second, took a deep breath, and then turned to Sylvain again. "Just - just bring her to Ingrid or something."

Sylvain read something in his expression and his eyes widened. "Is someone saying your true name?"

"Shut up for a second." Felix concentrated and -

Stepped into the human world. He was in a small room, cramped, covered in frills and pink. Two tiny beds were crammed somewhere between mounds of what looked like boxes and suitcases. The woman who had called him was standing just before one of them, eyes wide. 

He had been right. She had become beautiful. But she was currently making an expression at him that was somewhere between fear and fury. "Y-You!" she said.

"What?" Felix frowned at her, still feeling slightly off-center from the pull on him over his true name.

She was trembling slightly, hands clenched into fists. "Th-That's your true name, isn't it? Fraldarius."

Felix schooled his expression into complete stone, despite feeling the sting of the word somewhere deep within him. The sudden call to act. It was incredibly hard to resist a true name, if used. It was why so few Fae ever gave theirs out. And it was why, apparently, the woman who had killed his ancestor years ago had decided to proliferate his family's name, passed from General to General, amongst the humans. Just in case anyone had ever needed to use it. 

In all honesty, he should have killed the woman then and there. As the General of the Faerie Court, he could have done so without barely making an effort, and Dimitri would have understood, despite his hold-ups about leaving the humans alone. Having your true name available to someone was torture or servitude or both, and as the General, he was in far too high of a position of influence to be able to be controlled by anyone other than the king. Let alone a human. 

But… he had seen this human before. Had watched her laugh. He had heard her voice as she grew up and she sang silly, stupid songs that somehow had invaded his thoughts, if only for a short period of time. And she was beautiful, now. And her eyes were still trying to hold his, even though she was terrified – and that fear of him had made it significantly worse. He hadn't been able to think of killing her.

"I thought you - you were supposed to have died. If… If that story is true," the woman said. 

Felix walked over to the side of the bed. The woman immediately took several steps away, but he did not look over, his focus instead on the small red book on the bed. It was worn at the edges, the title reading ‘The Fae Trials.’ He flipped it open, finally reading for himself the words that the woman before him had read out loud to him, though she had not known so, when she was a girl. The illustrations were ridiculous - frothy and grinning girls in pinafore dresses and an evil Fae all in black. He skimmed the text, flipping through it. Parts of it were true; parts of it were embellished; parts of it were very false. Felix's mouth curled when he finally came to the page where his true name was written. The young girl had a sword to the evil Fae's throat, and he was admitting his true name in defeat. 

Felix grasped both sides of the book and tore, ripping the book down the spine and dropping the two pieces on the ground. Because that book had his fucking true name in it, for anyone to read and use against him. And because the depiction of its revelation was entirely false. The woman's mouth dropped open. "Some human woman killed a relative of mine a thousand years ago and they turned it into a children's story for humans. It hardly means I'm dead."

"B-But…" the woman clearly needed a second to consider this.

"Why did you call me?" Felix folded his arms. 

The woman gathered herself up, still possessing fairly remarkable poise for someone who had just watched a Fae step out of midair in front of them and tear a book in two, and who was clearly frightened. "You - um, you’re going to listen to me."

Felix scoffed audibly and the woman's eyes narrowed. "Fraldarius." 

He fought the sudden tense in his muscles. "Stop saying my name."

"Y-You have to listen to me. Don't you?" the woman took a half-step closer. "If this is your true name, then… You have to listen. I – I’ve been doing some research, these past few days."

Felix fought the urge to snarl at her. Because he wasn't the boar prince, because she clearly had no idea what she was saying, and because there was still a small part of him that saw her narrowed eyes, her almost calculating expression as attractive. "Not always."

"Well, I command you, Fraldarius, to take me to the Faerie Court," the woman said. She took a deep breath, tensing, as though waiting for him to lash out.

Felix did try for a second to resist, but the instant pain, the instant wrongness of attempting to avoid this direct command, and not just the use of his name, was impossible. He blinked several times, trying to clear the odd ringing from his head. "Just - just, fine. I will."

The woman let out a long breath, her shoulders relaxing. 

Felix waited another second or two for his head to clear and then continued, irritation swelling. "Fine. I'll take you there, but you don't understand what that means. You want to take your sister from the Court but she won't be able to come with you. Taking you there means you'll just be there forever with her."

"That's not true," the woman said.

Felix rolled his eyes. "What are you going to do, follow your little storybook step by step? You're going to insist on making a bargain with the king to attempt his trials and win your sister back from the Court, and then when he gives you your trials, and you supposedly complete them, you'll just go along your merry way?"

The woman floundered for a second, sputtering. "W-Well, I -"

Felix barreled onwards. "You're going to die if you ask for the king’s trials. No one's completed them since that human woman from your story a thousand years ago. And somehow it's doubtful that a children's book based on a legend from a thousand years ago will help you."

"Well, I - I can't just… just leave her there," the woman said.

"So your plan is to go there and be left there with her?" Felix shook his head.

Her eyes had gone slightly wet. "I can't leave her alone. It's my fault - i-it's my fault she's there. I can't leave her there, alone. I have to try."

Felix looked at her for a second and then closed his eyes, mouth thinning. He knew with unfortunate clarity that the woman was not going to retract her command. Damn it all. Damn foolish human women and their stubborn ways. His ancestor had died because of one, if the story was true, and now here he was: practically in the same fucking position, except it was going to be this woman who was going to die because of her stubbornness. 

He seethed for another minute or so. The woman sniffled slightly before him. Felix sighed loudly. " _Fine._ Give me your name, then."

"What? I'm not an idiot," the woman said. He opened his eyes to find her looking at him indignantly. "I'm not giving you my true name."

Felix snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. Humans don't have true names."

"How can I believe you?" The woman folded her arms. 

"And I have two conditions," Felix said, ignoring her words. "I'll follow your order and bring you to the Faerie Court, but you will call me Felix – not my true name. And you will give me your name."

"I don't accept," the woman said. "I don't need to. You have to follow my order."

"And because I have to, as you say, I wouldn't be able to actively resist your order. Therefore, these conditions are helping you. I need a name to bring you into the court." Felix narrowed his eyes at her.

"You didn't need my friend's name."

"That's different." Felix resisted the urge to throw his hands up. "That was a… That was ancient magic. You wished her away willingly to the Fae Court. I took her. That's different than just escorting you into the Court because you're using my true name."

"Fraldarius, I command you to tell the truth," the woman said.

Felix snorted, the words as harmless as if it had not been his name at all. "Fae _can't_ lie."

"Oh." The woman paused. "Oh."

"Your name," he prompted.

"Annette," she said, taking in a deep breath. "Annette Dominic."

“Annette," he said, and he didn’t miss how she had tensed at her name on his lips.

"Yes. That's it." She folded her arms. 

"And I have your word that you will not refer to me as Fraldarius in the Court," Felix said.

"Nope." Annette met his eyes.

Felix's lip curled, having gone from irritated to simmering with annoyance at the word. "I cannot control you commanding me. But you will refer to me as Felix otherwise. Do I have your word?"

The woman thought about this for a second. "Fraldarius, I command you to never harm me, and to protect me from harm so that I am not hurt during my stay at the Fae Court."

Felix's mouth dropped open, anger almost immediately coursing through him, but the woman kept speaking.

"And I command you, Fraldarius, that when we arrive, you will take me to Mercedes von Martriz, my best friend, and safely bring us back to the human world and ensure Mercedes's safety in her time in the Fae Court. And I promise to call you Felix, unless I’m commanding you.”

"Ridiculous," Felix snarled, finally not encountering resistance from the second command. "No. I can't do that part."

"What?" 

"I said, I can't do that part. You can't command me to take you to your sister and bring her back. You already wished her away and forced me to bring her to the Faerie Court. That supersedes it. There’s only one way to bring something back from the Fae." Felix folded his arms. "You're messing with things you don't understand. Stop making foolish decisions."

Annette’s mouth thinned slightly. "Fine, if you won't bring me to Mercie, I command you to bring me to the King when we arrive in the Court, Fraldarius."

"Wh-" Felix broke off at that. "You can’t actually be serious about doing the trials."

"It's a command." The woman met his eyes, drew herself up to her full height, despite the fact that he could still see the smallest tremble in her hands. "Now, can we go? I want to start rescuing my best friend."

Felix scoffed. "You're going to get yourself killed. You're a human, and you’re just going to ask the king to grant you the chance to attempt the trials? You'll die."

"Wrong." Annette’s mouth curled into the smallest, least convincing smile he’d seen - but still a smile. "Because you're not going to let that happen, General."

Felix's jaw worked for several seconds, in which he resisted the urge to throw something, or cut the ridiculously large amount of stuffed animals still on her bed in two. Was he to be glorified bodyguard? He was the General of the Fae. He was the person who people looked to to make sure all of the Court stayed in line - him and Sylvain and Ingrid, and Dedue, when he left His Majesty's side. He was not a bodyguard. 

Felix took a slow, controlled breath, and let it out, almost too angry to speak.

The woman nodded at him. "So. Can we?"

Felix stepped forward and grasped her arm, ignoring the small squeak from the woman, and concentrated, trying to push the fury to the side. Sylvain tended to say his spells aloud, for dramatics, but he preferred silence. He pictured the Court. The dirt and stone and wood walls. The intricate carved doors of the throne room. The grassy fields where Ingrid and her lady knights rode pegasi. He concentrated on the human woman next to him, held her name in his mind. 

And then they were gone.


	2. Chapter 2

The man - Fae - before her was terrifying. 

Well, it was really all terrifying. After what had felt like an incredible victory against the Fae who now stood, silent and furious, at her side, Annette had found herself in the the Faerie Court. The place where Fae existed, if the book from her childhood was to be believed. And she was finding that it was.

"What… What is this?" The man on the throne leaned over slightly. "Felix?"

The man beside her didn't budge, staring somewhere just below the throne, expression absolutely murderous. Annette quickly looked away from him, before he met her gaze with that expression, but the crowd around the outer edge of the throne room was almost worse. Groups of people in opulent clothing, far more opulent than that of the man at her side, were all staring at her and whispering. People with skin that ranged into tones like green and blue and pink. Something that looked rather more like a giant bear than a person. A man with immaculate deer horns that had been interlaced with daisy chains. All of these Fae (for she assumed they were Fae) were clustered towards the front of the circular room, towards the giant throne that looked carved from solid silver, unnaturally perfect in its forging. Above the throne was a giant blue banner that depicted some kind of horrible hybrid creature with an armored man astride it. 

And on the throne was a Fae, weighed down with rich furs. One of his eyes was white, scarred, and the other was terribly piercing. Annette could tell even at a distance that there was something inhuman about the eye that wasn't blind, but she couldn’t place what about it had been unnatural. His blonde hair was long, and a silver circlet laced around his head.

"A word, Your Majesty," Felix said flatly. "Privately."

The king - for he had to be the king, he was clearly a king - nodded slowly. "Court. Leave us."

The throngs of people around them began to chatter instead of just whisper, but they did leave, albeit not before Annette caught some of their words. ("Human. A human girl." "Sacrificial, maybe." "The general found himself a human lover?" " _Anyone's_ bedding a human these days." "By the Gryphon, the king will have the general's head if -"),

The doors on either side of the throne room swung shut. Annette felt as though the pounding of her heart was very clearly audible, but did her best to remain upright, and not fall into a puddle in the ground. Because what in the Goddess's name was she _thinking?_ Everything was bizarre. Everything. The throne room was clearly underground, but it was lit by a multitude of candelabras that webbed across the ceiling and burned apparently without candles within the sconces. There was a giant of a man - Fae - that was standing just behind the king's throne, an axe about as large as she was strapped to his back. She had been teleported here by a Fae. Fae were real. She was going to attempt to complete the king’s trials, whatever they ended up being. She had to save Mercie. 

Nothing made sense but that. Annette swallowed. She had to save Mercie.

"Well?" the king prompted. Annette startled, but his eyes were not on her.

Her Fae companion didn't respond immediately, looking somewhere to the side. Eventually, he sighed. "You should ask her."

The king's eyes (eye?) turned to her, and Annette couldn't stop herself from flinching. "Um."

"Well?" The king looked between them again when Annette did not immediately respond. "Is this just a terrible way of introducing your lover to the Court, Felix?"

"Are you fucking _kidding_ me," the man beside her said, as Annette felt her cheeks flush dark. "No! You seriously think -"

"Well, what is it, then?" The king's eyes narrowed. "Explain."

"She wanted to see you, apparently," Felix said flatly.

The king looked at her for a second and then back to his general. "I thought I made it clear that humans aren't supposed to be here unless they make their way here themselves.”

"She…" Felix petered out for a second. He sighed. "She knows my true name."

"What?" The king actually stood up from the throne and Annette took a full step backwards in response. He was far taller than she had expected, and his breadth, it seemed, had not been just furs but muscle. 

"She commanded me to take her here, bring her to you, and also," The man paused, his tone clearly becoming far more frustrated, "to ensure no harm comes to her."

The king was clearly at a loss for words for a second, before his expression turned dark with rage. Annette took a step backwards from him, again, at the odd sense of a shimmering power that hovered around him. "What?"

"Wow. Seriously, you've really been running into some interesting humans, huh, Felix?" Annette had half-turned to see a red-haired man, who had clearly just entered the throne room from a small side door, grin at them. He was dressed in some kind of grey armor, a red shift sticking out from under part of it. His eyes on her weren't cold, or particularly angry, but they were evaluating. "She really got you."

"This is not a laughing matter, Sylvain," the king said. Despite the fact that his voice hadn't been loud, Annette had felt the terrible weight of it. The crushing, odd sense of fear at the man's words, which exponentially heightened to an almost physically weighty degree when the Fae looked at her, eyes narrowed. Annette had some difficulty forming words under the pressure, closed her eyes and tried to focus.

"I - I'm not - I just want my best friend back," Annette said, and her voice was high even to her own ears. 

"What?" The pressure that had been almost crushing her abated, just a fraction, and Annette took a deep breath.

"She wished her sister away and now regrets it." Felix, clearly annoyed.

"I -" Annette took another breath to steady herself. "I didn't wish her away, and - and she isn't my sister, I was quoting from a book -"

"It doesn't matter." Felix waved his hand. "The magic interpreted it that way, I did as she wished according to that oath from Gryphon knows how long ago, and now she feels badly for making a foolish decision and wants to do your trials to get her back."

"She what?" Whatever pressure on her finally lifted, and Annette almost dropped to the ground in relief. 

"I - um," Annette floundered for a second (was she supposed to call him Your Majesty? Probably) and then spoke, "Um, Your Majesty, I didn't wish my best friend away, so I need to take her back with me. She isn't… she's not supposed to be here."

The king looked at her, and then at Felix. "And the only way to retrieve something, or someone, that you willingly gave to the Fae is to make a bargain with the King of the Fae and complete my trials. I see."

"Wow." Annette jumped at the voice from behind her, having forgotten that the redhaired man was still in the room. The man in question walked slowly around from behind them to stand closer to Felix. "And she's commanding you to do them with her."

Annette paused, because although she hadn't exactly done this, she now realized this would have been an excellent decision. She had assumed that the Fae's protection over her would encompass protecting her within the trials. But it had been too late to act, now. Somehow, the action of commanding Felix in front of the king, who had exercised that terrible crushing power over her, did not seem wise. 

"No." Felix folded his arms. "A human has to do the trials alone."

"He's correct," the king said, and he finally sat down on the throne again. “Humans must complete the trials alone. Although to be fair, a command over your true name is still a command. I suppose we shall see if it works."

Felix didn't so much as speak as grunt in annoyance.

"So, tell me, human woman. As a matter of procedure, I must tell you of the trials. You must complete the five challenges I grant you, regardless of what they are. These challenges are ancient. Older than me, older than the Court itself, if legend is told. You may take nothing with you besides the clothes on your back. Between trials, I ensure your safety within my Court. Within the trials, no Fae can ensure your safety. Without the guarantee that anyone will help you, do you still want to attempt the trials?"

Annette swallowed. Mercedes. Her best friend, her confidant, her almost-sister. Mercedes had studied with her for tests and exams and quizzes and written papers with her and read them over to make sure they were ready to submit. Mercedes had taught her how to bake (sort of) and had sat with her when Annette cried over her first (and second) break-ups. Mercedes had been there for her when her father had left her mother and had been there for her when she had found him, years later, and confronted him about it. Mercedes did not deserve to be here, alone, believing herself wished away.

Annette cleared her throat, the noise echoing in the room. "Yes."

The king shifted slightly on the throne, his furs rustling as they scraped the back of his chair. "I warn you, only one human has ever completed them, and that was so long ago as to have passed into legend for even Fae."

"I… I want to make the bargain, Your Majesty. Mer- My friend, I can't not try to save her.” Annette felt the words stick in her throat and cleared it again, willing herself to speak clearly. Because her stories, and all that she had scoured the Internet about Fae in the days since she had wished Mercie away, always had said that Fae bargains are tricky. To make one, she needed to choose her words carefully. Annette had thought this through, before she had even summoned Felix, and already knew what she wanted to say. “Your Majesty, I want to complete your trials in exchange for her – and my – immediate and safe return to the human world."

The king looked somewhere to the side for a moment before he finally looked at her. "Very well then. You were duly informed, human. The bargain is made."

The last words, pronounced with deep finality, made the air around Annette shiver.

“As you wish, you will proceed to the first trial immediately,” the king said. “The first is the trial of wit, or wisdom.”

“Im-Immediately?” Annette said, feeling herself tense. 

The king didn’t bat an eye. “Did you expect time to prepare? It is too late, now.”

Annette hadn’t known what to say, because she _hadn’t_ expected time to prepare, but she also, for whatever reason, hadn’t expected to be immediately thrown into the trial. In the book it had seemed so much more… kind. The king had agreed to let her run the trial, and while the villainous General had scoffed at it, the human heroine had held her head up high and told him she would retrieve her sister. In reality, she was not holding her head up high, the general was not scoffing, and… and she was afraid.

Thought ceased as the air around her shivered again, this time for a prolonged period of time, the shivering growing more and more aggressive. Annette shuddered at the feeling of the air crawling around her, almost crawling upon her, as though she could feel small creatures scuttling across her skin, and then - 

She was standing elsewhere, towering walls as high as the sky around her, forming a passageway with only two ways to go – right or left. Annette turned, but there was only mist, floating grey and diaphanous behind her. 

In the story, Annette knew, the trials were eked out simply. There were five: a test of wit, a test of courage, a test of endurance, a test of strength, and a test of temperance. Wit: the unnamed heroine had to solve a riddle that had her choosing between poison and water. Courage: the unnamed heroine had to walk through a pitch black room and not falter no matter what touched her. Endurance: the unnamed heroine had to watch her loved ones die and never flinch. Strength: the unnamed heroine had to defeat a dragon-like creature that breathed fire. Temperance: the unnamed heroine had to refuse her dreams to find her sister.

Annette turned back and looked at the wall in front of her. There was no poison or water here, and no riddle. There were just walls. So apparently her storybook hadn’t quite been accurate. Annette could barely estimate how high the walls went, and the sky just above it was grey and cloudy. Foreboding. But this was the trial, apparently, and there were only two ways to go.

She turned and began to walk left.

* * *

"Explain it to me again." Dimitri, in one of his small sitting rooms behind the throne room. 

Felix rolled his eyes, still pacing around the room. "We knew this already. That human woman from a thousand-some years ago that completed the trials knew my ancestor's true name, talked about it, and spread it around. Someone wrote it into a story, the girl knows it, she used it against me. Now why am I still talking about this?"

"It's dangerous," Dimitri said, expression darkening. 

"It's hardly any use to exact revenge on the woman, Dimitri," Sylvain said, lounging on one of the chairs beside Dimitri, who was still sitting just as upright in his chair as he would have been on his throne. “The bargain was made. She'll die in the trials, anyways."

"Who's going to die?" The door to the room opened, revealing Ingrid, a light sheen of sweat still on her face. Her expression changed upon seeing Felix. "By the Gryphon, Felix, you won't believe the rumors people have been telling me about you."

"Oh, I can only imagine," Sylvain agreed, suddenly grinning widely. 

"The other Fae in the court would have me believe that you took a human lover, decided to introduce her to Dimitri, and Dimitri got so angry about this he decided to trick her into making the bargain to do the trials to prove her love for you. Or, less convincingly, you were seduced by a human, married in secret, she declared that she wasn't your wife in front of the whole Court, and then you got angry that she lied about your marriage and forced her to do the trials." Ingrid's eyebrows rose. Sylvain began to laugh. 

Ingrid frowned at Sylvain but continued. "Now, I'm going to assume zero for two in terms of accuracy, but what everyone agreed on is that you brought a human to Court."

"I can't be expected to explain this, _again,_ " Felix ground out to the air in front of him, feeling the beginnings of a headache forming.

Sylvain grinned and obliged. "Remember that human woman I asked you to let join your party of lovely lady knights? Well, the woman who wished her away knows Felix's true name, used it to make him bring her here, and is trying to do the trials to bring your new lady knight back to the human world."

Ingrid digested this slowly, a pause in which Felix continued pacing.

"What I'm curious about," Sylvain said after a short time had passed, speaking so lightly that Felix knew he was being incredibly serious, "is why Felix didn't kill her when he realized she knew his true name."

Ingrid frowned. "We don't kill humans, Sylvain."

"She knows his true name." Sylvain shrugged. "Terrible power in the wrong hands. What if she'd commanded him to kill Dimitri and make her queen of fairies? He would have had to do it."

Ingrid smacked Sylvain on the arm. "That is _not_ funny."

"I agree." Sylvain looked at her seriously, and Ingrid's frown faded.

Felix scowled. "I didn't realize she was going to command me to be her fucking bodyguard."

"What?" Ingrid's eyebrows raised. "She what?"

"She commanded me to not let harm come to her." Felix frowned, again.

"Humans must complete the trials alone." Dimitri sat backwards in his chair slightly. "She can't receive help from you."

"Your true name, though," Ingrid said, slowly. "I wonder if that supersedes it. If you'll have to help her."

"Can we stop talking about this?" Felix let out a breath of frustration. "She's apparently going to do the trials. If the command forces me to go, I have to go and I will. If she finishes them, she takes her little friend and goes. If she doesn't, she dies."

Dimitri cleared his throat. "The fact she knows your true name -"

"Can we just fucking let it go?" Felix snapped. 

The room was silent for a few seconds. Ingrid and Sylvain exchanged a glance. Dedue, still silent in the corner of the room, frowned at him, likely for raising his voice at the king.

"All I will say is this," Dimitri said. "We have no guarantee the human will not abuse that power over you, Felix."

Sylvain hummed thoughtfully. "Now, hold on. There was a human who knew your true name, Felix. Years ago."

Felix felt his jaw clench. Sylvain grinned at him slyly, and Felix knew with unfortunate clarity that Sylvain had seen this sudden tension. 

"Oh." Ingrid blinked, her green eyes wide with understanding. "That human girl you -"

"I was not -" Felix began, only to be interrupted himself.

"What?" Dimitri asked, eyebrows lowering. For he had never been informed of this rather irritating story. "Hold on, Felix. Did - Did you have a human lover?"

"She was _not_ my lover, and I was not -" Felix broke off to avoid the lie and to glare at all three of them, particularly at the small smile on Ingrid’s lips and the rather larger one on Sylvain’s. "Will you three ever stop being a pain -"

"Well, there's one easy way to figure it out," Sylvain said, smiling even as Felix's expression grew all the more stormy at being interrupted again. "If she's not the woman who you spied on -"

"That is _not_ what -"

"Who you, what was your word, did reconnaissance on?" Sylvain's grin widened when Felix practically snarled at him. "The human woman who you paid attention to, how's that, if the human woman attempting the trials now isn't that person, all you need to do is say it."

Felix turned away, furious, knowing his silence would speak for itself. 

Ingrid made an odd noise in the back of her throat. “Wait. Is she really?”

"Hold on, what happened? And why, exactly, was I not informed of this?"

"Well, now, Your Majesty," and Felix could practically see the grin spreading across Sylvain's face, "listen well. Because I think I understand now why our friend here didn't immediately kill our cute little trials participant.”

Felix could feel himself tense, hands becoming fists. He stalked over to the door.

Sylvain clearly was not going to let him get away without further embarrassment. “Before you leave, Felix, she _is_ adorable. I wouldn’t be so upset to have all the Court think that you two are lovers.”

Felix growled and exited the room, slamming the door behind him as he went.

* * *

Annette wasn't exactly sure how long she had been walking, but it felt like it had been at least several hours, and all she had seen were walls, occasionally with small breaks in the wall serving as a doorway. 

Annette didn’t dislike mazes. She had done a few as a child, once in an amusement park with her father, when she was far younger, and once in a haunted house with Mercie and a few other friends. She had finished both of them successfully (although she had finished the haunted maze while shrieking her head off). And, all things considered, Annette considered herself a fairly intelligent person. Of all the trials that she knew she would have to complete, wit was the one she felt most confident in.

All the same, all this time walking had, rather unfortunately, given her all the time in the world to think, something she had really done very little of since arriving in the world of the Fae. (Or the Faerie Court. It wasn't clear whether where she was existed within the Court.) And this thinking was really just serving to be an absolutely terrifying reminder that she had no idea what she had gotten herself into.

The storybook never really detailed the practicalities of the trials. Like, how, exactly, the heroine had eaten or drunk during her trials. Or how long they had taken her. Had she completed all the tasks before she needed to eat? The king had guaranteed her safety between trials, but she had no idea how long each was. Was each trial a day-long affair, or was the reason so few people finished the trials because they died of thirst while doing them? Annette had tried very hard to not imagine that she would see bones along the passageways, and had not yet, but this did not exactly help the thoughts. And she had progressed slowly from considering needing a drink to feeling desperately thirsty, the dry dust and dirt on the ground below her only serving to dry out her mouth further.

"No." Annette stopped herself short, taking in a deep breath and pulling herself up to her full height. "I can do this. I can do this! I have to do this."

It was Mercie. She had to do it. She had to. She would. And she had to believe that the Fae - that Felix - would be able to help her, because she had commanded him to not allow harm to befall her.

Annette kept walking. Time passed, painfully slowly, like running molasses down a bowl. She made a right. And then a left. She thought of how her feet hurt and cursed her sedentary existence as a university student. She took another left, and another right, and another right. Annette took a break, leaning against the wall for several minutes. Because, Goddess, this was a maze. The trial was a maze. She was supposed to be thinking clearly about the ways she was going. But she was just so, so tired. She took another left and another right and another right and another left and another right and another left and another left and another left and another right and another left and another right –

And then, suddenly, she was before a creature.

Annette tried her very, very hardest not to gasp, but heard herself make a terrible squeak regardless. It was giant – it almost looked tightly packed within the gap of the walls it was wedged between, despite how large the gap between the walls was, and it towered almost to half of the wall’s height. She recognized it – because Annette knew what a sphinx was. (Annette had read about Oedipus’s famous answer to her riddle in school.) But nothing had quite prepared her for this. A woman’s head sat above a furred body with lion’s paws hunched beneath it, each paw with talons about as long as Annette’s hand. Giant wings stretched above its body, brown and white and magnificent. The human head was beautiful, symmetrical, and her hair was set in long waves descending to her lion’s fur.

“Child, come closer,” the woman’s head said, and her voice was lyrical, lovely. Annette tensed but took a small step closer. “Human, come closer.”

Annette took another step closer, still about ten meters away. 

The sphinx smiled gently. “I cannot give you your trial unless you come closer, child.”

Annette swallowed and walked closer, until she had closed the distance halfway. 

This, apparently, had been enough, for the sphinx spoke again. “I am the trial of wit. Defeat me, and you will win your trial.”

Annette swallowed again, feeling yet again how dry her throat had become. Because, Goddess, hadn’t the maze been a trial enough?

The sphinx clearly did not mind the horrified expression on her face, for it continued. “Here is my riddle. Answer me: 

“There is something I seek. While it is bound, it chooses kings and peasants. When it is freed, it foretells war or woe. While it is bound, it propels men’s lusts and furies. When it is freed, it tumbles, falls, and stains. While it is bound, life will often thrive. When it is freed, death will often follow. What do I seek?”

Annette blinked, feeling the words wash over her. “Um. How many guesses do I have?”

The sphinx smiled beatifically. “One.”

“Do… Do you repeat the riddle?” she asked.

“I can.” The creature’s wings shifted slightly, and Annette tensed, taking a step backwards again. “Do you wish me to?”

“Yes. Please.” 

Annette listened again. And again. And again, until she could repeat it verbatim back to the sphinx, who nodded when she had finally repeated it correctly. She started to pace slowly in front of the creature. Goddess. It was something to be sought. What did it mean to be bound? Or freed? If it was needed for life, was it something vaporous, like oxygen? (Annette scratched this thought. Oxygen, when freed, did not foretell war or woe.) And gases did not stain. Perhaps liquids did. Wine? Alcohol certainly propelled lust and fury. But alcohol did not choose kings or peasants. Unless perhaps having a lot of alcohol meant you were a king, versus having no alcohol, which made you a peasant. 

She must have been taking a long time to think, for the sphinx shifted slightly, and an odd crunching noise came from underneath it as it rose slightly to resettle itself into position. Annette turned instinctively at the noise and froze. 

Underneath the sphinx were bones, cracking slightly as the creature moved. Human bones. She saw what could have been a leg bone. What definitely was a skull. Her stomach turned, and she felt the rush of adrenaline shoot through her like cold fire. What the _fuck,_ Annette thought, very uncharacteristically, feeling her organs twist as though she was about to vomit. _What the fuck._ What in the Goddess’s name was she doing here? What in the fuck was she doing and she was going to die and -

The sphinx settled back down and smiled at her, beatifically. Terrifyingly.

Annette took several steps backwards, practically stumbling over herself. She leaned over her legs, put her hands on her knees, and took several deep breaths. She needed to be able to think clearly to answer a riddle. And she had suspected what would happen if she had answered incorrectly. (It had been the same in Oedipus, after all. And people died in the trials. That was a thing.) And this… creature… was trying to frighten her to psych her out. And Annette was intelligent. And she was brave and… witty. Wise. Or whatever the adjective that corresponded to wit was.

She walked herself through the riddle again, slowly, picturing it like a piece of paper in her mind. It was like school. She could write notes to herself in the margins, in her thoughts. She could think her way through this -- there was a terrible crack from before her, caused by the sphinx clearly moving again, and Annette fought the dry heave that involuntarily shuddered through her. It was impossible to stop… seeing the bones, even though she was looking away. They had been yellowed with age, streaked with dirt. Goddess. Those poor people. What had they lost to the Fae? And why did they give their life for it?

And Annette suddenly had the answer. A liquid the sphinx sought. It chose peasants and kings by flowing through their veins. Shed, it foretold war. In the body, it propelled lust and fury. Outside of it, it fell and stained. In veins, it was life. Once outside of the body, it heralded death.

“Blood.” Annette looked at the sphinx. The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly. “That’s the answer. You seek blood.”

“Child.” The sphinx lowered itself slightly on its haunches, the woman’s head coming slightly closer to her. Annette shuddered, feeling her legs tremble below her. “How right you are.”

And then the creature sprung, a lion’s paw rushing towards her. Annette shrieked, terrified, because she had been right, hadn’t she, and her voice reached horror-movie decibels, and –

She was splattered with something hot and wet, and the sphinx was screeching, terrible and inhuman, and there was the smoky scent of sap or spice or clove, the same smell from the day where she had lost Mercie. Annette opened her eyes immediately and was faced with the back of the Fae. Felix. His sword was still raised, and the creature’s front paw was bleeding profusely from a slash that had almost cleaved it in two, spilling not blood but a thick black liquid like an oil spill. And she looked down for a second and saw that she, too, was covered in arcs of the stuff, hot and bitter-smelling.

The sphinx screeched at him again, wordless and horrible, its eyes rolling. “Fae!” Annette shuddered, for the voice sounded far more feral than human. “Get out! No Fae can interfere in the trials.”

Felix’s voice was terribly calm. “Did she answer your riddle correctly?”

The sphinx reared forward towards him, its wings flapping wildly. Annette covered herself with her arms as gusts of dust and wind buffeted her. 

“Answer me,” Felix said.

The sphinx howled again, the noise loud enough that it felt as though the very walls around them trembled. Annette shuddered. 

“Begone.” Felix’s voice raised slightly. “Before I kill you myself for endangering the sanctity of the King’s Trials.”

The creature hissed at him (there really had been no other word), and then began to beat its wings violently, gradually raising from the ground. Annette had held her arms over her head again as the gale beat her clothing against her and her hair against her face. As the winds gradually subsided, she carefully looked up.

The sphinx was far in the distance, flying away. Below it was the crumbled remains of the human bones it had sat upon. Felix’s back was still to her. He appeared to be looking upwards at the retreating creature.

“Why…” 

Annette barely comprehended that she had spoken aloud until the Fae responded. “Why did she attack you, you mean? Hungry, probably. No human has attempted the trials in some time.”

“But I… I answered correctly. D-Didn’t I?” Annette said. Her voice was shaking, but she was far too preoccupied to care. “Sh-She… You said Fae can’t lie.”

“We can’t.” Felix had walked over to survey the human remains, sword still in hand. “Did she tell you you would complete the trial if you solved the riddle? What were her words?”

“She said I would win the trial if I defeated her,” Annette said, and then understood. “Oh.”

“She didn’t specify the defeat,” Felix said. “Although, to be fair, she is only supposed to ask you to solve the riddle.”

“So… you know what the trials are?” Annette said.

The man paused. “Only as well as any other Fae.”

"Um. F-Felix?" 

The man turned. The terrible black liquid that covered her had made a thin line across his cheek, but he was otherwise somehow untouched by it. The almost inhuman beauty of his face.

Annette cleared her throat, still feeling the urge to sit down in a heap but forcing herself to remain standing. "I… um, Fraldarius, I command you… please, help me during the trials."

Felix didn't respond at first, instead flicking the black rivulets of blood off his sword in a practiced motion and then sheathing it carefully at his waist. "Sounds more like a request."

Annette flinched. "Um, well. I… I really need your help."

"I see." Felix folded his arms. 

"I… Sh-She cheated,” Annette said, somewhat pathetically.

“No one said the trials would be fair,” Felix said.

“What?” Horror rose within her.

Felix shrugged. “Did you think they would be? Why do you think no one has won since one time about a thousand years ago?”

“Wh-What? Then, come on, you… you need to help me,” Annette said. “I – I can’t do this. Not if every trial is… is just a deathtrap. If I can’t win, they’re not a trial.”

“I don’t make the trials,” Felix said. 

“You – You’re a villain!” Annette said, loudly. 

The man blinked at her. 

“You’re… You’re the evilest of all villains, Felix,” she said, feeling frustrated tears rise in her eyes. “I’ll – I’ll hate you forever and ever!”

The man’s mouth opened and shut, but he clearly had no idea how to respond to this.

“I mean, even you said – you said she was endangering the sanctity of the king’s trials!”

“She was.”

“Then…” Annette trailed off. “Then – why are you –”

“I will do as you command.” Felix shook his head. “I’m not disagreeing with you. I just don’t understand why you thought this would be easy.”

“Oh.” Annette took a deep breath. Her vision swirled slightly as her blood pressure dropped dramatically, relief flooding her. Because he was going to help her. She had commanded it. Annette really did fall to the ground, then, as her knees suddenly buckled beneath her. “I… see.”

The man took a step towards her but halted when she looked up. 

“Do you… Do you know how long I’ve been in here?” she asked him, trying to blink her vision back into normalcy.

He surveyed her. “You look ill.”

“That’s not really… an answer.” Annette felt a wave of exhaustion roll over her and shook her head slightly as though to clear it. This only heightened the odd, staticky feeling in her head.

“Probably the greater part of a day.” The man shrugged. 

Do you know how I could get water, here?” Annette asked, and her vision swam slightly when she looked at him. “I think… I should probably have some water.”

“What?” Felix blinked at her.

Annette’s felt her head nod towards her chest, realized she was going to pass out, opened her mouth as though to warn him – and then her vision went black.

* * *

“What the hell,” Felix said angrily. Because this was the actual second time in about as many days that he was having to drag a human through the back halls of the Court. To make matters worse, this time the human was unconscious, so he was having to carry her. He had known humans were weak, but Annette’s fainting had been excessive: surprising _and_ irritating. “Why in the hell do I have to do this?”

“She invoked your help, didn’t she?” Sylvain said from behind him. 

“She’s supposed to be housed in Dimitri’s guest chambers until the next trial,” Felix snarled. “She didn’t command me to keep her in _my_ quarters.” 

“He doesn’t care where we house her, and he’s got guests there already. And you’ve got rooms that are always empty. You’re never here.” Sylvain shrugged, walking faster so that he was beside him. The man looked over at Annette, who was dripping sphinx blood on the ground and all over Felix’s clothing. “Yikes. Did you dip her in the sphinx after you cut it open?”

“She’s lucky it’s just the sphinx's blood,” Felix said, cutting a look at his friend. “She’d be dead if it wasn’t for me.”

“Hm. That true name business,” Sylvain agreed, but his eyes on Felix were evaluating. “Lucky, indeed.”

Felix bristled at whatever Sylvain thought he was implying.

“Too bad about the blood and gore,” Sylvain said, mouth rising into a grin. “Otherwise maybe it would be nice to have a cute little human around. Hm?”

Felix’s scowl deepened. “Stop suggesting –”

“Oh, give it up, Felix. Really.” Sylvain rolled his eyes, grin dropping from his face. 

“She commanded me to protect her from harm,” Felix said.

“But you didn’t _have_ to go rescue her from a rampaging sphinx. Did you?” Sylvain eyed him. “After all, if you really had been forced to go by her command, you’d be yelling at me about it, and how you wouldn’t have gone otherwise, and how could I believe such a thing. Etcetera.”

That was the thing about knowing someone for hundreds of years. After a while, they didn’t have to hear you say something to understand. And Felix fucking hated how Sylvain just _knew_ things. The boar barely paid attention because he was swamped with kingly duties. Ingrid saw things but often didn’t grasp them. But Sylvain…

“I get it. It’s good for you to be interested in someone. Even if they’re a human. Like I said, she’s pretty cute. Not my type, but pretty cute.” 

Felix bore this in furious silence.

Sylvain’s grin suddenly reappeared. “Unfortunate, though that she thinks you’re a villain. She has to be housed with the evilest of all villains! She’ll hate you forever and ever!”

Felix almost dropped the woman despite himself. “You son of a _bitch._ ”

Sylvain started laughing. The noise echoed around the tiny hallway.

“You were listening in,” Felix said, voice rising. “You – You can’t get on my case about ‘misusing Court property’ and then use your fucking orb to watch Annette attempt the trial –”

“Oh, she has a name, does she?” Sylvain grinned widely. “Annette. Cute. I like human names.”

“Stop,” Felix ground out. “Just – will you ever fucking leave me alone?”

“Hah.” Sylvain snorted. “Please.”

Felix pushed open the door to his chambers and did not bother to hold it open for Sylvain. Sylvain, clearly expecting this, managed to catch the door and walked through himself. 

“Wow. Just like I remember,” Sylvain said, raising an eyebrow.

The rooms weren’t exactly well-used. From what Felix understood, Dimitri had a servant clean it out every a few days, but the series of rooms that was supposed to belong to the General of the Faerie Court and his family were rarely inhabited. Felix preferred to board himself in one of the various guardhouses around the Court. The rooms were opulent and ridiculous and reminded him too much of his father or Glenn. He had few fond memories of the place, though he had grown up in one of the bedrooms here.

Felix thought for about half a second about what spare bedroom to drop the girl off in and decided on the one farthest from the main entrance, on the off chance that someone like Sylvain decided to investigate who the human trials participant was. Sylvain followed him into the room and leaned against the doorframe when he unceremoniously (but carefully, he wasn’t the boar) dropped the girl on the bed in the room. 

He looked at her for a second. She was smeared black with blood, and a thin layer of dust from the trial’s dirt floors had coated the blood and streaked her clothes. How did one make sure a human didn’t die in between trials? Her command over him to ensure no harm came to her was still in force outside of the trials – he could feel it pricking at him, but he was not entirely certain what to do about it.

“Should I leave you two alone, now?” Sylvain asked, grinning. 

“Get your fucking mind out of the gutter,” Felix snarled, pushing past him out of the room. “And stop _staring_ at her.”

“I’m not,” Sylvain said, turning and following him. “Man. What are you going to do when she wakes up? You don’t even keep servants here.”

For once, Felix thought, Sylvain had made a decent point. He barely spent time in these rooms anymore, and there was no one around to haul water or wash clothes or make food. And humans needed special food, didn’t they? 

The man clearly knew he was right. “I can find someone for you. I know people here.” 

“Fine.” Felix wasn’t entirely willing to thank him, but his friend grinned as though he had anyways.

“Oh, what would you do without me?”

“Live a happier, longer life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain and Felix dialogue practically _writes itself_
> 
> Riddle comes from u/chryseaor from Reddit. Thanks, DnD & RPG players, for the large riddle repository online.
> 
> I thought it was appropriate to use "Gryphon" as the Fae's chosen exclamation, after the gryphon (or what looks like a gryphon) on the Blue Lion's flag/emblem.


	3. Chapter 3

“Stop moving,” the woman – creature? - said. Annette shrieked again as the woman dunked another jar of frigid water over her head. “Stay still, foolish girl. Do you want stains on your body for the rest of your life? You want to smell like sphinx forever?”

Annette covered herself as best as she could inside the wooden tub and shivered, no longer moving but still in horrified shock. She’d awoken to a gnome-like woman about half her size dragging her out of bed, stripping her despite every protest available to Annette, and dumping her unceremoniously in a tub, talking all the while. The woman (gnome? Fae?) had introduced herself, complained about the terrible humidity underground these days (Annette did not find it humid), explained she came from the Margrave (but did not specify what that was), and that her purpose was essentially supposed to make sure Annette did not die between trials. Apparently, this included doing things like scrubbing blood off of her. 

“Sphinx blood _stains,_ so you can hardly wear what you had on earlier, it’s covered in the stuff, but there’s no spare clothing for you, here. I had to go to the Margrave’s to fetch something. What was he expecting you were going to do, run the trial naked? You humans have no natural protection on your skin. By the Gryphon, you’d think the general would treat his human lover better, wouldn’t you, girl?” The woman was apparently content to talk to herself because Annette had frozen and did not respond. “Unbelievable. The Margrave told me to expect insanity and he was correct.”

Annette tried very hard not to be terrified as the woman took a small scrubbing brush and began to rub it against her arm, which had indeed acquired a grey sheen wherever the blood had touched her. 

“The rooms haven’t been used in years,” the woman continued. “Hardly any hot water, no food in the pantry. Let alone any _human_ food. No salt. Nothing.”

The woman moved on to Annette’s other arm. Annette winced under the scraping pressure of the brush, but the grey sheen was fading.

“And who in their right mind would have thought the general would bring a human to Court?” The woman paused and surveyed her. Annette shrunk under her gaze, feeling very naked. The woman snorted. “It might be the hair. Orange is so rare on a human. Did he promise you excellent things to bring you down here? Gold and silver and pretty dresses? And instead you’re running the trials because the King refused to let him have a human lover.”

“That’s… I’m not…” Annette cleared her throat. “He’s not – I mean –”

“He promised you, what, endless dancing and baubles and toys?” The woman rolled her eyes. “A life of riches and endless love?”

“I’m running the trials because I want to,” Annette said. “For my best friend.”

The woman paused and looked at her. And then began to laugh, a wheezing, unpleasant sound. “Hah. Humans always lie.”

“It’s not a lie,” Annette protested. The woman took her by the upper arm and dragged her out of the tub and threw her a towel. Annette covered herself up instantly. The woman tossed something white and linen at her. “I recommend you get dressed. I need to get your food settled, girl, so you have your strength for the next trial.”

Annette paused, having somehow completely forgotten about this. The woman’s incessant chatter to her from the moment she had awoken from terrible, sphinx-infested dreams had ensured that she hadn’t thought of anything else. But she was indeed still attempting the trials. Annette remembered the vivid, bizarre sensation of knowing she had been about to pass out and shivered slightly. She had never passed out before and wasn’t entirely sure why it had happened. Some combination of quickly-dropping blood pressure, exhaustion, and dehydration, she assumed. But it had happened so quickly. Annette worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She had been lucky that the Fae had appeared and had apparently taken her here, likely to some room of the king’s, as the king had said he would ensure her safety in the Court between trials. 

Annette toweled herself off and dressed in the clean white shift that had been thrown at her. It fit her, thankfully, and covered everything it was supposed to. Annette always tried to be a positive person, and she was inordinately grateful for this. 

The room she was in was clearly a bathroom. There was a tub, and a bowl of water, and a hole in the ground that Annette was assuming was a toilet. She walked into the room that she had been in earlier. The bed had been stripped of all sheets – likely because of the stains the woman had been so angry about – and the room was almost empty outside of the bed. Both rooms were wooden and tile, clean and sparse but functional. Hardly indicative that they belonged to a king, but Annette hadn’t had any reason to complain.

Annette sat down on the bed, taking a deep breath, thankful for the quiet. 

“You can’t just barge in here,” a man’s voice said, muffled through the door. Annette turned.

“Why not?” Another man’s voice. 

“Sylvain, really.” A woman’s voice, getting louder.

“What? She said she was dressed and clean.” Annette stood, because it sounded as though the voice was practically outside the door, and then the door had opened. “See? Good afternoon.”

It had been the redhaired man from the throne room. He grinned at her. Behind him was a woman Annette had not seen before, and behind her was Felix, who looked deeply irritated.

“Sylvain, really!” The blonde woman yanked his arm from the door and looked at Annette. Her hair was done up in a neat braided circle around her head, clearly showing her pointed ears. “We do apologize about him.”

“You wanted to come, too, Ingrid.” Sylvain (for this was clearly his name) grinned at her. 

“Well.” The blonde woman cleared her throat. “Well, I mean, someone needs to make sure you leave her alone instead of chatting her up –”

“I don’t chat up humans,” Sylvain said.

“You’ve chatted up a kelpie, it only has to have a beating heart,” Felix said flatly from behind them.

“Rude,” Sylvain said, turning around. “Not wrong about the kelpie, but for the record, it was a very hot kelpie.”

Annette blinked at them. Wasn’t a kelpie a horse?

The blonde woman smiled, somewhat apologetically. Annette saw, with sudden clarity, how beautiful she was. Her eyes were a true, vibrant green that Annette would have otherwise imagined was from colored contacts but was obviously real on her. “I was told you’re attempting the trials because of your friend.”

“That’s… That’s right.” Annette looked between the redhead and the blonde, who seemed to be expecting something of her. As though she herself was some kind of entertainment.

“You should command Felix to give you better rooms, you know,” Sylvain commented, glancing around the room. “There’re a lot better ones in his quarters.”

Annette tensed slightly. “What?”

“Oh, Felix, you didn’t drop by and let her know she was going to be staying at your place for a while?” Sylvain grinned widely at his… friend? Annette couldn’t quite tell.

“I… thought the king…” Annette paused again, suddenly remembering the woman’s words to her, earlier. And how she had been scandalized at how the general was treating her. And how she assumed she was his lover. Oh. 

She looked at Felix, who was looking away. Annette wondered, for about a half-second, if she should be concerned about these rumors. And if he had heard them. And why he hadn’t quelled them.

Clearly, something had shown on her face because Ingrid spoke. “You can stay with my corps. All-female. We –”

“ _No,_ she can’t,” Sylvain said, shooting a significant look at the woman.

The woman suddenly grimaced slightly. “Ah. Right.”

Annette looked between the three of them. No one met her eyes for a second, and then Sylvain grinned at her. “So, are you hungry?”

Eventually, Annette was seated on a small stool in front of an ornately carved table. Someone (the goblin, presumably) had set it with fruit and vegetables and bread and butter. Annette recalled the old legends about fairy fruit and had avoided the food until Felix, seeing her expression, had told her that it was entirely safe for humans. There was something reassuring, yet strange, Annette thought, about being able to believe in someone’s words, as long as she couldn’t reasonably interpret them in another way.

She’d sat down to eat, and Sylvain had directly sat opposite her, grinning oddly at her the whole time. Annette had shifted under his direct gaze, but she had been starving at the sight of real food and had begun to eat despite herself. Ingrid had sat down beside Sylvain, and Felix had gone, scowling, to the wall, one hand fidgeting with the hilt of one of his swords. 

“Um. Sorry to ask, but… Why are you three… here?” Annette asked after a significant silence had passed, setting down the slice of bread she had been working her way through.

“Well, all of the Court is chattering about you, you know,” Sylvain said, grinning. “It’s been a while since a human attempted the trials.”

“It’s been longer since a human completed one of them,” Ingrid added.

Annette frowned. “Probably because the sphinx was cheating,” she said, mostly into the bread. 

Sylvain tilted his head slightly at her. There was something rather inhuman about his almost-perpetual smile, Annette thought. Although he apparently couldn’t tell that she was discomfited by it. (Or, but she tried not to imagine this, he could tell but didn’t care.) “Ah, that’s right. Well, Dimitri heard about it, so, you know. She’ll be punished for that.”

“I thought the trials weren’t supposed to be fair,” Annette said, shooting a look at Felix.

Ingrid frowned at her friend. “Felix. They are supposed to be fair.”

“No one expects humans to complete them,” Felix said, shrugging.

“They were supposed to be fair when they were first made. And I’m sure Dimitri will keep it fair.” Sylvain tilted back slightly in the stool. 

Annette finished the bread and moved on to the fruit, examining the most normal-looking apple in the bowl carefully before beginning to eat it. It would have been lying to say she hadn’t been curious about Sylvain’s statement about the trials. The Fae clearly knew far more about them than she did. She cleared her throat. “Can you… tell me about the trials?”

Sylvain grinned wider. “Nothing that can help you complete them, if that’s what you mean.”

Ingrid looked at her in a worried way that was not serving to comfort Annette. 

“They’re challenges made for humans.” Felix was looking at her from across the room. “The King of the Fae puts them on so people have a chance to recover what they lost to the Fae.”

“I know that part,” Annette said.

“That’s… almost all we can tell you. There are rules about this kind of thing. No assistance, although I suppose you’re a special case, there, because of you knowing Felix’s true name. We can’t give you much information,” Ingrid said. She picked up a pomegranate and cracked it open, beginning to eat. “Mm.”

“Human food? Really?” Sylvain looked at Ingrid. “You really will eat anything.”

“Oh, hush,” Ingrid said, lips staining slightly red from the seeds. “Just because you’re fussy about what you eat doesn’t mean everyone is picky.”

“How long has it been?” Annette asked. The Fae looked at her. “Since… the last person ran it?”

“Oh,” Sylvain looked at the ceiling. “What do you think, Felix? Two, three hundred years ago?”

“How would I know?” Felix rolled his eyes.

“Don’t…” Annette started, faltering slightly when Felix looked at her. “Um. Don’t you… bring humans to do the trials?”

The three of them looked at her in surprise for a moment, and then Sylvain began to laugh. “Oh, man, that’s good. Can you imagine?”

“Sylvain,” Ingrid said, swatting at his arm.

“Shut up,” Felix said, folding his arms. 

“While that’s hilarious, no.” Sylvain had stopped laughing, but was still smiling, a grin that looked a touch more genuine. “Very few human participants manage to learn the King’s childhood best friend’s true name and command him to bring her to the trials. I’d call you a ‘special case.’”

“Best friend?” Annette repeated.

“He is not my best friend,” Felix said, louder this time.

“Whatever,” Sylvain said. He raised his eyebrows at Annette. “That one’s not worth the argument.”

Annette digested that slowly, beginning to work on another thick slice of bread, this one with copious amounts of butter.

“Anyways, who knows,” Sylvain said, looking at Annette in a very uncomfortably careful way, “maybe, since Felix is helping you, you’ll finish them all.”

“Has to help,” Ingrid corrected. 

Sylvain smiled. 

Somewhere after the fourth slice of bread, the blonde woman declared she needed to go check on her knights, and her and Sylvain had left, Sylvain winking at Annette as he left. “Let me know if you get sick of Felix, Annette. I know some Fae who would love to -” 

“Get out,” Felix had said to him, rather fiercely, and then they had been gone.

Felix shifted and moved to leave after them after the pair had left, but Annette cleared her throat. “Um. Felix?”

He turned.

“Um, I didn’t get a chance, earlier. So. Thanks. You know. For saving my life.” Annette tried to grin but wasn’t sure if she quite managed it.

He paused for a moment and surveyed her carefully. “You know, you shouldn’t say thank you to a Fae.”

Annette blinked. “What?”

“It implies obligation.”

“What?” she repeated, still surprised.

“Well, for example, now I can demand something of you, now that you admitted you owe me.” Felix shrugged. “Maybe I won’t demand anything, or maybe I will when I feel like it. But you admitted that you owe me, and so now I can collect that debt.”

Annette half stood from her stool. “Well – well, I retract that statement.”

Felix grinned at her, just slightly, but clearly enough that it was a smile. Annette paused at this. It had been, in all respects, a rather disarming expression. It made him look far younger. Far more human. Far more attractive. “Unfortunately for you, it doesn’t work that way.”

“Well – what would you ask?” Annette frowned at him. “I mean, I can just command you to not collect the debt.”

“Doesn’t work that way,” Felix said. “It’s like a bargain with a Fae. Didn’t anyone tell you to choose your words carefully?”

“But I didn’t make a bargain with you,” Annette huffed.

“You said you owed me.” Felix shrugged.

“I said ‘thank you,’ and I’m _not_ saying it to you right now, I’m just saying the words without meaning,” Annette said. “And saying it at all isn’t saying I owe anything!”

Felix let out a breath. “Look, I gave you fair warning. Now you won’t do it again.”

“But I –” Annette paused when he rolled his eyes, realizing she was getting nowhere. She dropped into the stool again with a sigh. “Goddess. Fine.”

It took a second, but eventually Felix sat down in the stool opposite her, resting his arms on the table. “You should prepare. For the trial.”

Annette looked up at him. His eyes were a deep red on hers. She tried not to flinch at that. 

“The next trial is courage.” Felix slipped a dagger from somewhere in his coat and looked at it contemplatively. He then picked up an orange from the fruit bowl and peeled the skin from it carefully, slowly, in one long curled strand. 

“You should consider what you think the trial might entail,” Felix said. “Prepare yourself for it.”

Annette watched the peel slowly drop until it separated from the orange entirely. Felix set the orange down on the table between them.

“Why do you care?” she asked, looking at him. 

Felix blinked at her. “What?”

“I mean…” Annette looked at the perfectly peeled orange, which he apparently had no intention of eating. “Why… why are you bothering with this? I know I commanded you to keep me safe from harm, and to help me during the trials. But didn’t command you to keep me company, or anything.” 

Felix bristled. “What?”

“Your friends, too.” Annette looked at him. “I thought – I thought the king was going to… to throw me in a dungeon or something. Or like, some tiny dorm room. I didn’t expect you to… um, to house me.”

“His rooms are full,” Felix said, clearly annoyed by her questions. He dropped the dagger on the countertop and crossed his arms. “Do you want me to arrange your transfer to a dungeon?”

“No!” Annette said, very quickly, “I mean, I just don’t get it –”

“Do you want me to house you with the sphinx? I’m sure she’d be happy about that,” Felix said, louder.

“No! I’m just asking –”

“Well, what, do you want me to play the role of villain you clearly want me to?” Felix stood up, knocking over the stool behind him. “Yell at you, threaten you, hold a sword against your throat?”

“No! Goddess.” Annette stood, too. “I’m – well, it’s – it’s just… nice of you to – to help. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just… can you blame me? You – you took my best friend away –“

“I took her because you _asked_ me to.” Felix glared at her. “That isn’t a voluntary urge on my part. That foolish rhyme is older than you could ever imagine, and I have no power to not answer it.”

“I’m sorry,” Annette repeated, louder this time. “I am. I’m sorry, Felix. I wasn’t – I mean, can you blame me for just being surprised that… that all of the Fae weren’t just… jeering at me and telling me I’d die?”

* * *

Annette looked at him, eyes wide. They were such a deep blue, like a perfectly clear sky. Felix opened his mouth to respond but –

“I mean, I expected…” Annette sat down in the stool again with a thump. “I – I don’t know what I expected, really, but – but not Fae coming in and… and eating food and telling me everyone in the Court was – was talking about me.”

Felix stood for a second, uncertain how to continue. He pushed the stool he’d knocked over upright again and sat down, facing to the side. He glanced over at her. The girl was mostly hunched over the table. Her hair was growing steadily lighter as it dried.

“Ignore the Court,” he said, slowly. “Look, if you doubt my intentions, listen. You know I can’t lie.”

Annette didn’t move, staring down at the table before her.

Felix paused but continued. “It benefits me if you finish the trials. I have reason to want to help you. Because you wished your friend away under my name, technically she’s my responsibility.”

The woman’s head came up to look at him so quickly he was worried for a second. “ _You_ have Mercie?”

“No.” Felix quickly headed that off, grateful he had foisted the woman off on Ingrid.

“Who does?” Annette’s eyes narrowed at him. “You must know, if she’s yours to look after.”

“I’m not going to tell you,” he said. “She’s safe. I give you my word she is safe.”

The woman glared at him a second more. “I command you –”

“It won’t work,” he said, waving a hand at her. “You can’t command me to give her to you, we’ve been over this. Just stop it. The only way to retrieve what you lost is to attempt the trials. You know that.”

The woman’s fierce expression crumpled, and she dropped her head to the table again with a deep sigh. “Goddess.”

Felix continued sitting. He could hear the steady thump of her heartbeat, could hear Annette sniffling slightly.

“What am I doing here?” she asked, and her voice was quiet. Almost trembling. “Goddess. What was I thinking, doing this?”

Felix blinked. She was crying, wasn’t she? Or close to it. It was one thing to be Sylvain, and to swoop in and tell a weeping woman that she was more than welcome to use him as a comfort (this had happened; Felix had seen it). It was another to be Ingrid, go up to the woman and tell her that he would kill whoever had done this (this had also occurred, although he hadn’t been certain if murder had actually been carried out). It was another to try to do what he always did when confronted with someone crying: tell her the truth, however brutal. The fact was, the decision had been hers, and she had chosen to do the trials, regardless of the fact that he had warned her against it. Anything he could tell her would be cold comfort.

And yet something about seeing the girl weep was frustrating. If only she had actually listened to him, she wouldn’t be crying here, anticipating her doom. If only she had _listened_ to him, he wouldn’t be having to sit opposite her, completely unable to say anything. 

Annette stood up, suddenly, and turned away from him. Her voice had gone watery, and the flash of her face that he’d seen before she’d turned away had been red. “I’m – I’m going to go lie down.” 

Felix made no motion to follow her, and she exited the room, rubbing her face with one of her hands. He could hear her sniffling, more pronounced, now, as she traveled down the hallway to the room he’d housed her in.

He looked at the orange, the array of human food – just one of the hundred foolish things he would have to do to keep this human alive. Felix stood from the table, returned his knife to his pocket, and walked out of the room himself.

The next day, Annette had been called into the throne room to receive her second trial. Dimitri had allowed the Court into the room, this time, and the place had been thronged with Fae. Annoyances, each and every one of them. Felix had shown up, mostly because _someone_ had to show Annette how to get to the throne room, and he hadn’t missed the snide looks on multiple faces on seeing him escort the woman there. Annette had been apparently given some form of normal Fae clothing, a basic shirt and pants, by the servant Sylvain had sent over, but she still stood out, even before she had to walk in front of Dimitri to receive the second trial. 

As Dimitri was proclaiming that she would be attempting the second trial, that of courage, Felix’s attention was suddenly drawn by a familiar presence just behind him. Fuck.

“Felix. Is it true? Are you really bedding the human?” 

Felix felt his shoulders tense. Dorothea. 

While she’d originally been living outside of the Faerie Court, a dalliance with Sylvain about a hundred years previously had led the woman to politely force her way into the Court. She’d tried, briefly, to interest Felix. (It hadn’t worked.) The fact that it hadn’t worked didn’t mean she didn’t still try, however. He thought, by this point, that she probably did so to get on his nerves. (This did work.)

He turned to see the Fae smile at him. 

She giggled. “Don’t give me that terrifying look. I’m hardly frightened.”

He turned away from her.

“Oh, come on. Don’t ignore me. Everyone is so curious.” She laced a hand around his arm and he shrugged her off.

“Lay off,” he told her curtly. 

“Please.” Dorothea’s arms wound around him, and as her lips came close to his ear he pushed her off with significantly more force than was necessary.

The woman gave a very delicate cry (as if he had actually _hurt_ her; he could have thrown her against a wall and she still would have been completely fine) and touched her chest. “Oh! General! How could you?”

“Do you ever give up?” He glared at her. “Try to have the decency to take the hint when someone’s not interested.”

He felt, suddenly, the acrid taste of Dimitri’s magic, pulling Annette from the throne room. He turned, mostly on instinct, to watch the woman disappear. The trial had begun.

“My.” Dorothea, now grinning deviously at him. Several Fae around them had turned to watch. Felix felt their stares and understood: this had been Dorothea’s intent all along. The fucking annoyance. “Now, tell me. What does that human girl give you that I couldn’t? Tell us, Felix.”

“Hey now, hey now, is that Dorothea?” Sylvain, forcing his way through the crowd of Fae. For once, Felix was glad. Sylvain grinned widely at her. “It’s been so long.”

Dorothea’s satisfied expression, pleased at being able to push Felix’s buttons, melted into annoyance. “Sylvain.”

Felix took his chance to leave and threaded his way out of the throne room. He would thank Sylvain later. For now, he had a trial to participate in.

He slipped the viewing orb from his pocket and rubbed it slightly. It was no larger than half of his palm, transparent until activated. Carefully, he focused his thoughts. Annette Dominic. Orange hair, blue eyes. Her laughter from years ago. The small self-satisfied smile on her face when she had told him that would look after her in the trials.

The sphere shone slightly. He looked into it. Annette was walking through a small dirt passageway, almost a corridor, that led straight forward. Felix attempted to pinpoint her location, based on what he could see from the orb, but couldn’t figure out where, exactly, it had been. Likely somewhere in the wastes. He concentrated – but instead of making the leap, he felt the fierce pressure of Dimitri’s magic. The ancient magics of the trials, as well, pushing him away from leaping into where she was, attempting to stop him from interfering in the trials. Felix gritted his teeth slightly and focused. He watched the woman a second longer, feeling the pressure gather like a weight, trying to force him away, painfully strong against him. He concentrated, feeling his muscles tense, and then, after some effort –

Annette shrieked as he appeared directly before her. “Goddess!”

Felix took a second to gather himself after the silent battle he’d just undergone, and then pocketed the sphere. “Haven’t been called that before.”

“Wh-” Annette stopped herself, and then looked at him suspiciously. “Was – Was that a joke?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. 

Her mouth went agape. “ _Was_ it a joke?”

“It was true,” he said, a non-answer. “Well, shouldn’t you get on with your trial?”

Annette looked at him a second longer, as though expecting him to do something strange, and then kept walking.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for stopping by :)

The Fae had shown up.

Even though Annette had known that her command over him would hold, after his appearance in the trial two days previously, it had still been somehow surprising. Felix had been silently accompanying her for the last several minutes, barely bothering to say anything, but there nonetheless.

They had been walking for a while by the time they came to a small enclosed area that contained a pool set in the ground. Annette hurried forward and knelt at the edge of it. The pool was crystal clear and seemed perfectly potable. There did not seem to be a bottom to the pool - it looked as though the circle in which the pool was set just… descended downwards endlessly into the ground, until it went black at its very depths. 

“A well,” Felix remarked from behind her.

“Like… for drinking water?” Annette looked at him. He lifted a shoulder.

Annette stuck a finger in the pool. There was no burning sensation, no sense that it was anything but water. She, very carefully, licked her finger. No odd taste. Barring all else, she scooped up the water with her hands and drank.

“Seriously?” Felix scoffed. “How are you already thirsty?”

Annette splashed the water on her face. “Come on. It’s hot and dusty and gross out here. Can’t I just drink the water?”

Felix scoffed again but didn’t respond. 

Annette sighed, looking up at the walls around them. “There isn’t anywhere else to go. We just walked in a straight line until we got here. Did I miss something? I can’t swim down there. It’s too deep.”

Felix didn’t respond. Annette felt her stomach sink slightly within her. “Oh, no. That better not be the trial of courage. I’d die. I can’t hold my breath that long.”

She turned to look at Felix as though to confirm this was the case. He shrugged.

“Well, don’t you know what the trial is?” she asked.

“No.” Felix looked back at her. “Outside of the general setup of the second trial, I don’t know. It’s at Dimitri’s discretion. The only consistent trials are the first and last. Wit and temperance. The first is a riddle. The last…”

“You can’t say.” Annette sighed. “In the book, the girl gave up her dreams for her sister.”

Felix didn’t respond to that, looking instead to the water before her. 

Annette turned around and practically toppled backwards. “Goddess!” 

A creature, so pale green it was almost white in color, barely broke the water’s surface, eyes milky white as they looked at her. The remainder of its body, though slightly distorted under the water, was mostly visible due to the clarity of the water – it was long-limbed and humanoid in shape, but with no distinguishing features outside of its greenish skin. Mermaid? Naiad? It had hair, long and floating in the water, almost a seaweed-like texture, but it was as near-colorless as its skin. Annette was very troublingly reminded of watching nature documentaries on deep sea creatures. It inched closer to her, barely disturbing the water’s surface. She saw a flash of pale flesh below the creature – more coming.

“What on earth? What are – what are they?” Annette said, trying to back up but falling backwards slightly instead. And then there was a second head just below the water’s surface, and a third. A terrible, greenish webbed hand curled around her ankle. “Felix –”

“Merrows.” Felix looked back at her, seemingly unconcerned. “You did say there wasn’t anywhere else to go.”

“Felix!” she protested. He sighed, loudly, and began to unbuckle his coat. Annette fought the urge to cry out again as another hand curled around her other leg. Then two hands. The creatures’ skin was slimy and cool, but surprisingly strong. She was being pulled into the water. While scrabbling at the edge of the pool for some purchase, Annette’s fingers found a rock. For an instant, she considered throwing it at the merrows – but paused. 

This was the trial of courage. Courage. She slowly released the rock. 

“Goddess,” she said, seeing a fourth merrow appear beside her, its eyes milky and unblinking. Its hand closed around her, translucent webbing covering her wrist. Annette tried to look up at the blue sky above her as water closed around her feet. Then her ankles. Then her calves. It was cold. “I hate this.”

“You were the person who wanted to do the trials,” Felix said matter-of-factly beside her. His thick blue coat and gloves were gone, revealing a thinner black shirt. He had kept the swords. 

“I’m going to die,” she told him, and the fear in her eyes must have been at least obvious, because the bored expression on his face softened slightly.

“Right now,” he said, “I’m not feeling the pull of your command. So currently, you’re likely in no mortal danger.”

“How reassuring,” Annette said, shutting her eyes as the water closed in around her legs, and then waist. The slimy skin of the creatures was around her waist, and shoulders, and then her neck – Annette took a deep, deep breath –

Water. Despite taking their time inching her into the water, the merrows were apparently swift. Several hands released her, and she could tell from the pressure that there were only two creatures holding onto her now, grasping of her legs and dragging her down. Annette opened her eyes to see the walls of the tunnel descending around her at a speed that made her ears pop. Didn’t divers die if they went downwards too quickly? She couldn’t think about that.

Knowing that she couldn’t take a breath for the foreseeable future was causing her to panic, the urge to let out her breath and inhale almost irresistible, and she was trying not to panic, because Annette thought (possibly from some now-distant biology class) that panicking maybe took more oxygen or something. However, the water was getting heavier, so heavy, pressing down on top of her and around her, so heavily that she was not sure if she could move anymore, and this was not helping stave off the urge to panic. 

The merrows carried her on. The waters were getting darker, as they descended further from the surface, and Annette was having more difficulty seeing. Perhaps, she thought, slightly addled from the bizarre, mind-bending pressure on her head, this was what the storybook had meant by a dark room in which you couldn’t flinch no matter what touched you.

It was almost pitch black. She could see, barely, the whiteish forms of the pale merrows below her, the white of her shift-like shirt billowing around her. Annette did not know how long it had been, but her chest was in pain, every single instinct in her shouting at her to exhale, that she needed to breathe.

Almost unknowingly, she let go of her breath, the silvery bubbles almost indistinct from the water around her due to the lack of light. She watched them go from her, dazed. And the urge to inhale was almost more burning than the urge to exhale. Goddess. Annette thought of her father, who had left their family to serve as a priest, abandoning her and her mother. What would he think of her, now? Calling on the Goddess only when she was going to die? 

Annette closed her eyes. She couldn’t die. This… 

Fingers closed around her face and Annette jolted at the pressure of something warm pressing against her mouth and the rush of bubbles against her skin. Felix, his face on hers, mostly recognizable because he was not the bizarre luminous white-green of the merrows. Air. She was having difficulty thinking, but she knew that he was exhaling air, and she opened her mouth and inhaled. 

Blessed oxygen. Annette blinked, as a small amount of water came in with the air, and she fought the urge to cough as best she could. Felix pulled away from her, surveyed her face. One of the merrows was gesturing furiously at him, and he stared back at it for a moment before waving it away. Annette felt her head clear, slightly, but even so, she wasn’t sure if she could keep a breath in her lungs much longer. The urge to cough, or exhale, was still mind-bendingly strong. The merrows tugged at her ankles and pulled, this time to the side, dragging them down some dark tunnel in the rock that she had not seen from above. Annette felt the pressure pop her ears, again, and this time she watched a thin trail of blood in the water following her head as she was dragged to the side. 

She saw Felix, as she turned her head to watch her blood in the water. He was being dragged by the merrows as well, although the merrows were being less methodical about it for him, one pushing him and one pulling him by the front of his shirt. He met eyes with her. She could tell, even in the dark, the whites of his eyes gleaming slightly due to the reflected glow of the merrow before him. Annette looked at him, focused her attention on… anything other than the urge to release the air, to cough, to do anything that would probably lead to her death.

And then, slowly, and then all at once, the water became lighter.

Annette twisted to look where they were dragging her and saw a chink in the rocks before them, emitting light. The merrows passed her through it, yanked her forward, and Annette felt the scrape of rocks against her feet and calves and saw the surface of the water before her and spluttered out her breath, pushing herself upwards with her arms to break the surface of the water, gasping.

The merrows made odd murmuring noises around her, chirping and buzzing. Annette ignored them, still concerned with coughing and coughing and taking gasping breaths of air – _air._ She moved forward in the water so she could stand on the gravelly surface of the shore of… what looked like an underground cave, the mouth of it several meters before her, yet so bright that it was hard to directly look at. The merrows retreated, still visible slightly below the surface, as she walked carefully out of the pool, still heaving in deep breaths. 

When she’d gotten far enough from the water, she dropped onto the rocky ground, leaning her head over her knees. Goddess. She had almost died. She had almost _died._ Annette took another few breaths, trying to gradually lengthen them until she was no longer heaving. When she had regained enough composure, Annette slowly stood up and wrung out her hair, splattering more water onto the rocks below her. She was okay. She was alive and safe, and she was going to be fine. She grinned, forcing the any other emotion besides exhausted horror to come to her. It was okay.

More chirping and another gasp of breath meant, Annette thought, that Felix had also come out of the water. She looked upwards to see him walk out of the water, clearly disgruntled. His hair was dripping over his eyes, his shirt sticking to him. Annette tried not to look at the obvious indication of muscles where the shirt was soaked and flush against him, because it was absolutely none of her business and also she very much did not care, but he wasn’t paying her any attention. He was most concerned with his swords, checking the hilt and unsheathing both weapons as though to ensure no water had entered the sheathes. It clearly had, as he began a somewhat complicated process of unhooking the swords from around him and dumping out the sheathes on the gravel.

A merrow grasped Felix’s ankle, and Annette quickly backed away, anticipating being pulled into the water again. She nearly lost her balance and only caught herself by grasping onto a thick stalactite beside her. 

“Not…” the merrow said, garbled. It made a whistling noise instead. Felix yanked his leg out of its grasp and started walking.

“We don’t have all day,” he told Annette as he passed her. Annette looked at the merrow, whose face contorted slightly to reveal sharp teeth, and fled, almost running to get beside Felix.

“Uh – about the water,” she said.

Felix glanced over at her. “What?”

“Um, you gave me air.” Annette realized she wasn’t making much sense. She ducked her head to avoid a short stalagmite. “I mean, you like, gave me air. S-So I could breathe.”

He looked at her, still walking. “What are you trying to say?”

“You… you saved my life,” she said. Because he had. Again. 

“And?” 

“Oh. Right. Than-” Annette caught herself, only just remembering Felix’s warning. She looked at him, eyes wide. He had tried to make her say it, that time. The sneaky jerk.

“Something to say?” he asked, walking around a series of stalagmites. 

“No, I _definitely_ don’t.” She fiddled with the shift the goblin had forced on her that morning and began to wring it out.

“Could’ve sworn you were going to say something,” he said. She looked at him and saw the smallest hint of a smile. 

“You must be mistaken,” she told him. “I have nothing to say to you.”

Felix looked at her. “Mm. Too bad.” 

The light from before them was growing even brighter. Her eyes had adjusted enough to see what was beyond the mouth of the cave – grassy land, interspersed with trees, with two walls on either side leading out into what looked like a forest in the distance. Annette felt her heart sink within her. “Goddess. Is there really more to this?”

“What, you thought it was over?” Felix asked.

Annette frowned, still surveying the landscape before her. “Do Fae just use questions as a way to _not_ answer questions?” 

Felix made a noise somewhere between a cough and a snort. She looked up to see him smiling slightly again. 

They walked out of the cave and into the walled wooded area in silence after that, leaving Annette with her thoughts. Because Felix had saved her life, again, and even though it had not been his choice, he still had done so. He’d given her breath, literally, from his lungs. It had been a wonder he hadn’t died after doing so. Or, really, she thought, there was probably something to do with Fae lungs or something that meant he could hold his breath far longer than she could. Even so, he had saved her life. Even if he had apparently tried to trick her into saying thank you, he had saved her life.

“I’m…” Annette cleared her throat. “I am sorry, you know. That I called you… a villain.”

Felix turned to her. “Did you think I was insulted?”

“Um.” Annette paused.

He snorted. “I’ve never been called something so childish in my life.”

Annette flushed dark red. “W-Well, excuse me!”

“Seriously. ‘I’ll hate you forever and ever’?” 

“Shut up!” Annette walked faster to try to get away from him, which had been a bit difficult given the fact that he was taller and was able to keep pace with her easily. 

The walls on either side of them slowly curved away from them as they walked closer to the forest. As they approached it, Annette was able to see, suddenly, that the walls formed into a huge enclosure. A giant curved oval - almost an arena. Annette shivered at the thought. The area was forested, so she could not see directly what was in front of her. Most ominously, the odd diaphanous fog that had blocked the area behind her at the entrance to the first trial clung to the trees like a shroud.

It was hard not to make the comparison to a terrible, creepy wood in which someone like little red riding hood got eaten alive.

“I… don’t like the look of this place,” she said, mostly to herself.

“Courage,” Felix said, flatly. He flicked his bangs over his face. 

“I didn’t say I was afraid,” Annette said, drawing herself up to her full height, which, admittedly, still was quite short.

“You didn’t have to.”

Annette huffed slightly, at that, but he didn’t respond. She followed his gaze to the forest before them. “Well. I guess we just… go walk in the woods.”

“After you.” 

She made a face at him before beginning to walk quickly towards the wood; he blinked in surprise at the expression and then followed her, keeping a few paces just behind her. As they approached the trees, the air almost grew thicker, like a humid day, although the air still had a chill to it. The fog did not dissipate as she approached, but hung around the area, making it hard to see more than a few feet ahead. She almost ran into a tree or two before quickly diverting at the last possible second. Leaves crunched below their feet, and odd hissing noises came from within the fog.

“Are your spidey senses tingling?” she asked him, narrowly dodging a tree branch that seemed to appear out of the fog just above her.

“My – my _what?_ ” 

Annette realized, belatedly, that it was unlikely the Fae was going to understand the pop culture reference. “You know. Like, the sense you said you get about my mortality because of the command. Like, are you thinking something’s going to kill me?”

“I’m thinking the chances are a lot higher the more we talk,” Felix said, which immediately made her close her mouth.

They traveled into the wood in silence, after that. The only noise was the leaves beneath their feet, and, occasionally, quiet, odd noises from somewhere else in the woods. It had never been clear where, exactly, the noises had been coming from.

And then she saw something, just to her left, move in the fog. Annette stiffened. “F-Felix?”

The Fae behind her already had a hand on the hilt of his sword. “Quiet.”

A howling noise, almost deafening, issued from their left and Annette couldn’t help herself: she shrieked. Felix took a precious second to glare at her before all at once a head, as large as Annette, emerged from the fog before them. The creature’s arrival stirred the fog in a wider area and allowed Annette to see what it was – some kind of greyish, terrible beast with a grey armored carapace, and a huge slavering mouth full of teeth. A horn stuck out from its forehead, hooked and about as long as Annette was tall.

“Who … Who goes there?” the creature asked. Annette experienced a full-body shudder. The beast was huge, taller than her and Felix combined, and behind it swung a tail about as long as two-story building. 

Felix looked at her. Annette stiffened as the beast’s eyes, half-covered by bug-eyed lids, turned to her. “Um. H-Hello. Um, we do, I s-suppose.”

“A human and…” the creature’s head swung to look at Felix, “a Fae. I thought Fae were not allowed here.”

“Circumstances change,” Felix said shortly. 

“I… see.” The creature stood there, apparently considering this. “This is my forest that you walk in. The forest of beasts.”

Annette was trembling, practically beside herself in fear. Courage. Courage. Courage, she thought to herself, was _altogether impractical_ in the face of a beast the likes of which she had only seen in CGI. “Um. I – I see. Is… C-Can you tell me what th-the trial is? That, um, is in your - your forest?”

“Do not arouse my beastly blood,” the creature told her. “Else you… you will not be able to stop me.”

“B-Beastly…” Annette repeated.

The beast took a step forward, its head now only a few feet from Annette. Annette took a hurried step backwards and tripped over a fallen branch behind her with a short cry.

“Yes,” the beast said, as she hurriedly attempted to stand with no little effort, given the fact that her knees very badly wanted to give out below her. “Fear. It rouses… my blood. Don’t – don’t be afraid.”

It walked closer to her, and Annette backed up until her back hit rough bark. A tree. Goddess. The creature was still advancing, Felix retreating to keep pace with it until he was only a foot away from her, not quite between her and the creature, but close enough that he could have reached out an arm and grasped her. 

“S-So I just…” Annette took a deep, gasping breath. “Can’t be, um, sc-scared.”

The beast’s jaws unhinged in front of her, opening wider than should have been possible. And it roared at her. Annette screamed, and Felix had her by the arm and yanked her out of the way before the creature’s jaws split the tree she had just been leaning against.

“Run,” he said, in her ear, and she gladly did so, half-dragged by him through the forest, mostly being kept upright by his vise-like grip around her arm as she stumbled over tree roots. The fog clung around them, obscuring the way. The beast roared from somewhere behind them, distantly. 

“Ah!” Annette slipped on something that felt very dissimilar to grass and really did almost fall to the ground, only kept from falling flat on her face by Felix, who had hooked an arm around her waist. A light blue fabric stretched across the ground before them. “Wh-What is…”

“Get behind the tree,” Felix said sharply, yanking at her arm and pulling her closer to him so they were both in the shadow of the same tree. Annette barely noticed that she was practically being pressed into his chest, almost immediately looked back at the blue fabric on the ground to their side.

“It’s… It’s a dress.”

“What?” Felix followed her gaze.

It was a light blue silk dress, a deeper blue cape around it. It looked medieval, almost, but expensive and well-made. Like something from the Faerie Court. It couldn’t have possibly been there for very long – it looked brand new and was completely whole, with no staining or fading of color. Like some Fae woman had stripped and walked away.

“Whose…” 

An inhuman roar from behind them made the leaves on the trees around them quake. 

“Is – Does that mean that there’s someone else in here with us?” Annette looked up at Felix, and suddenly did realize how close they were. She could see his eyelashes at their distance, could feel the warmth of his body against hers. One of his arms was still firmly around her back, pressing her against him. “U-Um. I mean, that – that’s clearly not ours.”

Felix glanced at the dress again, looked back at Annette, and did not say anything in response. 

“Come, human,” the beast’s terrible voice said, behind them. A branch snapped as the creature clearly advanced. Annette thought, now that she was no longer directly staring at the creature, that it sounded higher-pitched than she would have expected, given how large the creature’s vocal cords had to be. “End my misery.”

“Goddess,” Annette said, quietly and mostly to herself.

* * *

Of course Dimitri had sent Marianne for the trial of courage. Felix could have kicked himself. She was entirely harmless, even in beastly form, unless she smelled fear, and then her Crest was unable to resist the chase. It had been cruel of Dimitri, perhaps, to ask Marianne to kill a human if necessary, but the Fae owed the King some life-debt that Felix had long-since forgotten the details of. It made sense. Felix looked to the side, trying to see any movement out of the periphery of his vision, but the fog was as motionless as ever. Annette shifted slightly in his arms and he tightened his grip a fraction in case she decided to go investigate the dress, or trip again. Or do something else that was going to get her killed.

The woman just needed to figure it out, so it was good that they had found the dress. Unfortunately, Annette had practically reeked of fear from the moment Marianne had first found them, so he wasn’t entirely sure how she would be able to calm the Fae down. What was worse was that Felix was doubtful that he could best Marianne’s beastly form in combat, if it came down to it – she would probably slaughter him and then Annette. And this was without even considering how Dimitri would react if he tried to kill Marianne.

“Is it… normal for, um, for creatures like that to – to talk?” Annette looked up at him. Felix trained his focus on her words, and not the way she was pressed against him, or how thin the fabric of her shift was, clinging to her slightly where it was still damp, or the way her lips parted slightly as she looked up at him. This was a trial in and of itself.

“No,” he said, shortly, and looked away, ostensibly to find Marianne, but really because he wasn’t willing to keep looking at Annette much longer, given how close she was.

“Is…” He waited. She was smart. She had figured out the sphinx’s riddle. He just needed to keep her out of Marianne’s way until she figured it out. “Is it possible…”

The beast roared again, far louder and most certainly closer. Annette tensed, pressing closer to him; he could feel her heart rate pick up. His fingers tightened on her, only partially because he needed to be ready to pull her away from the situation if Marianne were to leap through the fog. The other reason he was still trying to avoid considering. 

“I mean, do you think,” Annette said, this time in a whisper, “do you think maybe – um, maybe the creature is – is a person?”

“It’s not a _human,_ ” he said, equally quiet, still surveying the periphery as best he could.

“I mean, Fae, obviously,” she whispered. “Could – could a Fae shape-change?”

“Some can.” He waited for her to fill in the blanks.

“Let go of me a second,” she said. Felix looked down at Annette again. She didn’t appear to realize just how close Marianne could be without them realizing. It was little use to worry her about it at this point, though. 

He slowly unwound his arm from around her and she hurried over to the dress, picked it up, and hurried back to him, clutching the blue fabric in her arms. Her face was flushed slightly, likely in part because of exertion and in part out of fear. It made her freckles stand out slightly on her face, made her eyes look all the more blue.

“You – you don’t think it heard that, did you?” she said, breathing quickly. 

Felix fought the urge to pull her against him again. “What are you planning on doing with that?”

“Yes, what are you planning on doing with that, human girl?” 

The voice was before them instead of behind them. Annette shrieked, practically jumping on him, and Felix pulled her slightly to the side, partially behind him. Shit. Marianne was fucking quiet when she wanted to be, apparently. (Actually, Felix amended, she was often fucking quiet when she was in humanoid form, as well.)

“U-U-Um,” Annette stuttered behind him. He could hear her heartbeat galloping behind him, smell the adrenaline coursing through her. Marianne clearly could as well, as he heard a quiet shift of clawed foot over ground before them. She was advancing.

Felix tensed. The beast’s head was slightly visible through the fog, likely only to his eyes, and not Annette’s. Annette’s hand suddenly gripped his arm, likely for some measure of support. Her grip was tight, digging into his skin. He didn’t blame the woman for panicking, given the situation. Annette likely had far less scope of vision than he did, and Marianne hadn’t exactly come in looking like a bed of roses. Or sounding like the timid Fae he had interacted with, when she had been human and not driven by her Crest.

“Annette,” he said, very quietly. “You need to calm down.”

“I’m _trying!_ ” she hissed. She took a deep, deep breath, and let it out slowly.

Marianne shifted closer. Felix glanced at Annette, who was still scanning the air in front of them, still clearly unable to see the Fae before them.

“E-Excuse me, um –” Annette broke off. “Um, miss?”

Marianne paused, one giant leg raised in the air. 

“Um, s-sorry to, um, to bother you,” she said, voice high and breathy with fear. Annette still had a terribly tight grip around his arm. “I, um, I found a, um, d-dress over here. It… wouldn’t happen to be, um, yours?”

Marianne’s leg descended to the ground. Her giant head lowered slightly, eyes focusing in on Annette. Felix fought the urge to tense, for fear of startling Annette, but slowly allowed his hand to descend to the sword at his waist. Just in case.

“I – I wasn’t p-planning on taking it,” Annette said, and her fingers were loosening slightly around his wrist. “Um, I – I was wondering who it b-belonged to, so I could r-return it.”

“I see,” Marianne said. Or the beast. He hadn’t been certain who was winning, at this point. “Return it, then.”

Annette stiffened, but her hand retracted from his arm and she took a hesitant step forward. Felix allowed himself to tense in case Marianne sprung forward –

“And tell your Fae friend to back away.” 

Annette looked back at Felix, her eyes clearly wide with fear. Felix looked at her.

“Um, F-Felix, c-can you please, um.” Annette was trembling. He could see it. “Can you, um, p-please give us some – some space?”

Felix could feel his jaw clench.

Annette swallowed. “P-Please?”

He began to back up, one step at a time, still keeping an eye on Marianne. Annette watched him as he walked away, her eyes large and frightened on his - and then the fog made that impossible, until all he could see was the faint form of Annette, clutching the dress to herself as though it was a shield.

“Um,” Annette said. Her voice was trembling, too. “Do – Do I just, um, walk forward?”

Marianne hadn’t responded. Felix’s grip on his sword was now white-knuckle, but he had barely noticed.

“O-Okay, then.” Annette’s form grew slightly dimmer as she stepped forward into the fog. Felix’s eyes narrowed, straining to see. “A-Aah! U-Um, h-hello.”

He tensed. So she was close enough, now, that the creature was visible to her. She had to be close – close enough for Marianne to take a step and have Annette in her jaws. 

“I-It’s a, um, v-very nice d-d-dress,” Annette said.

The beast made a terrible noise, something between a growl and a screech. 

Annette squeaked. “G-Goddess. S-Sorry. Goddess.”

And then the creature roared – the same loud one it had made before lunging at Annette. Felix tensed, leaning forward. At the distance he was at, he could still likely make it to Annette before Marianne killed her. Probably. And it was the ‘likely’, the ‘probably’, that was really the problem. But she did not seem to be retreating. Her figure remained just as distant in the fog. 

And even at the distance, he could hear the deep, steadying breaths that Annette was taking. “Okay. O-Okay.”

Felix shut his eyes for a moment. Maybe this was it – maybe this was the trial. To approach her without flinching.

“H-Here. Um.” Her form bent slightly. She apparently placed the dress on the ground, before Marianne’s beast form. “Here you – here you g-go.”

“Oh,” the creature said, and Felix felt the snap of magic shudder through the area. 

“Oh!” Annette said, a small cry of surprise.

And the beast had been Marianne again. He knew it without seeing it, and immediately began to hurry forward. The fog began to lift from the forest, and he could see Annette through the trees, and just before her, a naked Fae, light blue hair tumbling around her.

“Oh,” Marianne said, blinking, looking between Annette and Felix, who was now within a stone’s throw of her. Her eyes were glazed, slightly. “Wh-Where am I?”

“Um, h-hello,” Annette said, clearly still getting over the rush of adrenaline from approaching Marianne’s beast form. “Uh, we’re, we’re in a forest. Also, you were just a – a m-monster. But now you’re a person.”

“Oh – oh no,” Marianne said, blinking. “Oh, Goddess. I – I nearly – oh. Goddess.”

Without further preamble, Marianne turned slightly and vomited on the ground beside her.

Annette took a step backwards, nearly tripping over herself, and Felix caught her arm. “Watch it.”

“Felix,’ Annette said, turning to him. And then, horrified, “Hey! W-Wait, you – you look away! She’s naked!”

Marianne, raising herself from her hunched position over the ground, looked slightly behind Annette and met Felix’s eyes. She looked down at herself, clearly realized she was naked, and grabbed the dress, holding it to herself “Ah! F-Felix?”

“Look away!” Annette repeated.

Felix blinked at her, opened his mouth, and then thought better of it. He turned around. 

“Goddess, I’m – I’m very sorry about him,” Annette said. 

Felix once again opened his mouth (because _she_ was clearly still looking at the naked Fae) and thought better of it.

“It – F-Felix, so – so it was you,” Marianne said. He could hear the shifting of cloth over skin and hair, and then Marianne cleared her throat. “Um, also – I’m so, so very sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“What?” Annette.

“I – I’m so sorry, I just – sometimes it comes over me,” Marianne said, clearly rambling, “and – I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Felix turned around. Marianne was indeed dressed, but looked practically beside herself otherwise. Allowing her to apologize without end was not going to help anyone. “Is she done with the trial?”

“Oh. Yes. Um, I changed back. So th-that means you completed the trial.” Marianne smiled slightly at Annette.

“Oh! Does it?” Annette clearly brightened at this, stooping slightly as though to grasp Marianne in excitement. “Oh, does it!”

There was a sudden vibration around them. Dimitri’s magic. Felix would know it anywhere. Felix had hold of Annette before he realized it, and then –

The throne room. It had been empty, outside of Dimitri and Dedue. 

Annette blinked, shook her head slightly as if to clear it. “Oh. We’re back.”

“Your trial is over,” Dimitri said. “Dedue, will you escort the human back to her current living arrangements?”

Felix met Dimitri’s eyes. This was unusual: a hurried dismissal. No pomp and circumstance. No grand acknowledgement that Annette had completed the trial. The Court would be annoyed by this – would hound Dimitri to be a part of the next one for this snub. Unless…

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” Dedue bowed slightly and descended from the dais to Annette. “If you will follow me.”

“Oh. Right.” Annette looked between Felix and Dedue and then nodded at Dedue. “Um, let’s go.”

Dimitri waited until they had exited the room to descend from the dais himself. He paused a moment before Felix, his one good eye surveying him. The gaze was not cold, but clinical. Dispassionate. A king’s stare, instead of an old friend’s.

Felix knew what the conversation would be before it began. 

Dimitri cleared his throat. “Let’s not beat around the bush. You are interfering in the trials, Felix.”

“She commanded me to interfere,” Felix said, folding his arms.

Dimitri frowned at him. “Felix. We’ve known each other a long time. The first trial, your interference was sound judgement. I am glad you did so. The woman won the trial fairly and the sphinx was acting against rules of the trial itself. But this time… you went too far. There was nothing unfair about that trial. I have half a mind to call her victory invalid.”

“She knows my true name and she commanded me to help her,” Felix said. “No one can resist a command over their true name. You know that.”

Dimitri’s frown deepened. “They are my trials, Felix. Do you think I can’t tell that you went willingly? My magic wasn’t disturbed by a command over your true name. You forced your way into the trials. You chose to go. And now you’re trying to trick me into thinking you went because of a command?”

Felix turned away.

“Do not trick me, my friend,” Dimitri said, and his voice had gone cold. “I will withstand some folly on your part, given your apparent interest in the human. But I will not tolerate –” 

“It wasn’t a test of courage, the merrows,” Felix said, angrily. “She would have died. Holding your breath isn’t a test of courage. No human could possibly –”

“The trials are not _your_ decisions,” Dimitri said, and his voice was growing louder, too. “Your interest in the woman does not justify violating –”

“You said you wanted to be a just king,” Felix said scathingly. He saw, again, Annette being pulled in the water, the last gasp of air flowing from her mouth. The trickle of blood from her head. “How is condemning a human to die because a merrow can’t judge the length of time a human can hold their breath a test of _courage?_ She didn’t attack the merrows. She let them drag her under. _That_ was the part that demonstrated courage, and she did it.”

“You _told_ her that she was safe,” Dimitri said, taking a step closer. “How is _that_ a test of courage?”

Felix opened his mouth but had nothing to say to that.

“And with Marianne,” Dimitri continued doggedly. “The girl would have lost the trial if you had not pulled her to the side when she first saw her.”

“You mean Marianne would have _killed_ her,” Felix said, feeling his hackles rise despite himself. The way Annette had screamed at seeing Marianne’s jaw unhinge. The way she had trembled, the way she had shaken with fear when she had asked Felix to walk away. “And she _did_ figure it out, she _did_ face Marianne herself. If Marianne had attacked her then, she would have died. I wouldn’t have made it in time. Marianne said _herself_ that she completed the trial.”

“But she would not have if you had not interfered that first time,” Dimitri countered.

“But the first time –”

“You will _not_ interfere with the trials again, Fraldarius.” Dimitri’s one good eye narrowed at Felix, and Felix felt his jaw tighten at the sudden force of Dimitri’s fury, and the pressure of the command over his true name. “And you _will_ obey me.”

Dimitri had never used his true name before. It stung like hot coals pressed to the skin on his chest - far stronger, far more painful of a command than when Annette had used his name. He had given Dimitri his true name when he had sworn allegiance to him as king. They all had: Sylvain, Ingrid, and himself. Dedue, Felix thought had given his to Dimitri a long, long time before. But Dimitri had never used any of them before. 

Felix looked at him. Dimitri’s expression was grim. Felix could feel the cold fury rising within him but managed to avoid opening his mouth.

“I am sorry, Felix. The trials must be fair,” Dimitri said, but Felix was already walking away.

He could hear Dimitri sigh audibly behind him as he opened the door to the throne room and stalked away. Fury, like a raging flood, roaring through him. To use a true name, even as a king, was an affront. Dimitri did not trust him.

Felix had his sword drawn before he even entered the training rooms.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is my favorite chapter so far. Please enjoy :)

By the time Annette saw Felix again, almost two whole days had passed. She had spent most of these days anxiously pacing about the rooms – almost a whole house, really – that he apparently owned, being chided by the goblin-woman whose name she still did not know. She had rested, eaten, slept more, and eaten more, but no one had come to tell her that the next trial was coming. When she had asked the goblin if she knew where Felix was, the woman had just rolled her eyes and muttered something about how all noble Fae were insane, and how was she supposed to know?

But then Felix had walked through the door to the small dining room where Annette had mostly been spending her time. 

“Oh, you’re here!” Annette stood up. “Felix. Finally. Um, the third trial –” 

“Begins this evening,” he said, flatly. 

“Oh. Good to know,” she said, slowly lowering herself back into her seat when he walked over to the table. “I… don’t suppose you know what it is, huh?

Felix’s face was cold, remote. Annette paused, not sure what she had said. Or why he was just standing before the table, not meeting her eyes.

“Felix?” she said, tentatively.

“I won’t join you,” he said, finally meeting her eyes. There was something in his gaze. Some cold emotion she couldn’t place. “For the trial. I can’t help you with any of them.”

“What?” She blinked at him. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“I’ve been commanded not to,” he said. His mouth curled slightly into something bitter.

“What? Hold on,” Annette said, holding up a hand. “But I already commanded you, with your true name, to _help_ me. That’s why you’ve been helping me.”

Felix turned away. “I can’t help you with the trials anymore. All right? I can’t.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Annette said, standing from the table again. “How is that possible? I thought commands over Fae’s true names -”

“I just can’t help you, Annette,” Felix said sharply, looking back at her. “This time you’re on your own.”

“But -”

“I’m not explaining that again,” Felix said, stalking from the room without any further comment.

“Wait!” she said, hurrying after him. “Felix, you _didn’t_ explain!”

By the time she made it to the doorframe he had exited from, there was no trace of him.

“Goddess!” she said, fighting the very childish urge to kick the doorframe. “What was that?”

She had returned to the room she’d been sleeping in. The trial was tonight. At nighttime, according to Felix. Endurance. And what the hell did Felix mean, he couldn’t help her? What had changed? Nothing made sense. Annette bit her lip. The only reason she had survived the past two trials was because of Felix. If he couldn’t help her, what was she going to do? It was almost not worth thinking about, because every time she started seriously considering the issue, she could feel her chest tighten painfully. Perhaps he had been mistaken. He couldn’t lie, but he could be mistaken. Right?

The hours passed fitfully as Annette alternated between pacing and willing herself to eat or sleep or do something to make time pass faster. Finally, there had been a short knock on her door. Annette jumped and opened it quickly to see, not Felix, but a blonde Fae. 

“Ingrid?”

“Good evening,” Ingrid said, her mouth curling upwards into what looked like a very forced smile. 

“Hi.” Annette blinked at her. “Um. Is it – Is the trial already here?”

“Yes.” Ingrid nodded, the smile fading from her face. “I’m here to bring you to the throne room. The hallways in the Court are a bit of a maze, you know.”

“Right.” Annette fiddled with the edge of her shirt. “I see.”

Ingrid paused, bit her lip, apparently wavering about… something. And then she spoke. “I’m assuming Felix told you. I mean, he told you that he won’t be able to help you from now on, didn’t he?”

“He didn’t really explain. He just… said he couldn’t help with the trials. But he has to be wrong. I mean… he is wrong, right?” Annette tried not to sound overly hopeful but could tell she wasn’t succeeding.

Ingrid sighed. “Well, unfortunately for you, he isn’t wrong. He can’t help you with the trials.”

Annette folded her arms. “But… it doesn’t make any sense. I mean, I commanded him with his true name. That clearly means something. Maybe he doesn’t always want to, but I commanded him.”

Ingrid opened her mouth, paused, and closed it again, her eyes narrowing at Annette. “Hold on. You think… that he was helping you because you commanded him?”

“What?” Annette blinked. “Well, why else?”

Ingrid paused for a moment, processing this. And then her posture melted from perfection to a slouch, one hand coming up to her face to rub her eyes. When she spoke, it was mostly to herself. “By the Gryphon. Somehow I’m always cleaning up someone’s mess, between him and Sylvain.”

“What?” Annette repeated, with more force.

Ingrid shook her head, sighing deeply again. “Seriously. Four-hundred-some years old and he’s still avoiding things.”

“What!” Annette said, far louder this time. “What do you mean?”

“Sorry.” Ingrid pushed her fringe from her eyes and met Annette’s glare head-on. “Felix is just… How do I put this? He should have explained this better to you.”

“Or at all,” Annette muttered, fully aware she was being catty but not in a good enough mood to care.

“Right,” Ingrid said, grimacing. “So. Well. Here it is. He was helping you by choice, not by command. Apparently, the magics over the trials are powerful enough that they resist the power of a command over a Fae’s true name, if that command would help a human win their trial. His Majesty let it slide for a while, but…”

“Wait.” Annette paused, holding up a hand for a second. “What do you mean, he was helping me by choice?”

“Well, it’s about what it sounds like.” Ingrid saw the surprise on her face and sighed again. “Apparently, Felix was worried you would die in the second trial.”

“I… nearly did,” Annette said, looking to the side. Felix’s hands and mouth on her in that terrible dark underwater tunnel. And he had pulled her away from that Fae-creature’s jaws. “But – he said it was because -”

Ingrid sighed, for what felt like the thousandth time. “Look. Felix is a lot like – well, that doesn’t matter. Felix may have talked his way around the truth. I don’t know. But he definitely wasn’t being forced to help you by your command.”

“Then…” Annette pushed, with some effort, her doubts about the fact that Felix had been willingly helping her to the side, because Ingrid couldn’t lie. Even though it felt like some sort of Fae half-truth or trick, Ingrid had stated it plainly enough. So much so that she wasn’t sure how else it could have been interpreted. “Then… If that’s true, what changed?”

“His Majesty found out,” Ingrid said. “Well, I don’t exactly know how that happened, if he always knew or if he found out. But Dimitri was angry about it. Rightfully so, honestly. Felix was interfering in the trials.”

“Interfering?” Annette repeated, quieter.

“Well, he was helping you. That’s… I mean, that’s pretty expressly forbidden. Normally, His Majesty could have ordered Felix killed for something like that. But we – His Majesty, Sylvain and I – we grew up with Felix. So His Majesty just commanded Felix with his true name not to interfere in the trials.”

Annette stood there for a while longer, having some difficulty processing this information. Ingrid finally cleared her throat, making Annette look up at her.

“Look, I’m sorry to have to say this, but we should go,” Ingrid said. “We’ve taken long enough already. His Majesty will be wondering what’s going on.”

“Oh.” Annette took a deep breath. “Right. The third trial.” 

“Yes.” Ingrid nodded slowly at her. “Come on, follow me.”

They walked in silence through the dirt and wood and stone passageways, Annette considering silently what Ingrid had told her. Finally, they arrived at a small wooden door that had been carved with images of the four seasons, dimly lit by a small flame burning without wick in a metal bowl above the door. Ingrid walked up to the door and placed her hand on the small divot in it that was clearly meant to be some kind of handle, and then turned back to Annette.

“For what it’s worth, I wish you good luck,” Ingrid said, her hand still on the door before them. The woman cleared her throat and spoke as though reciting something. “May the spring winds always be at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face. And may the road rise up to meet you as you walk.”

Annette paused, oddly touched despite herself. “Oh. That’s a really nice thing to say. Is that a saying?”

“When my knights go out to battle, we say that.” Ingrid smiled slightly at her. “I think you would have been a good one, you know. If things had been different.”

“A good knight?” Annette repeated, blinking.

“You’re twice as brave as most of them, to do this.” Ingrid opened the door before them. 

The murmur of the Court hit her first – the multitude of voices speaking in low tones. The crowd of Fae all around her. There were almost more than there had been before the second trial. Ingrid tilted her head slightly as if to indicate Annette needed to walk, and so she began to walk through the door and through the gap between the courtiers in front of the door – a small passageway that had apparently been left for her to walk through. The Fae closest to her descended into whispers, and she could only catch snippets of conversations. (“-first time in years –” “King’s likely upset about –” “General isn’t here, where is he?”)

Annette tried her very best to keep straight-backed as she walked directly in front of the king, keeping Ingrid’s words in mind. Twice as brave. She would have to be twice as brave, certainly, now that Felix was not able to help her.

“Miss Annette,” the king said, and she stiffened. Apparently he had learned her name. “Tonight you will be attempting your third trial.”

Sylvain was visible in the crowd just to the left of the dais, she noticed. His red hair was distinct even amongst the brightly colored courtiers. He clearly noticed her gaze and grinned. Somehow, this didn’t make her feel any better. 

“Tonight is the trial of endurance. Endure, and you will win your trial.” The king’s gaze was dispassionate upon her. 

She swallowed and nodded, not trusting her voice. Endurance. And with the clear knowledge that Felix would not, could not, help her.

The now-familiar shiver in the air around her caused her to tense, close her eyes.

It was the scent of clean, warm, earth below her that caused Annette to open her eyes. She found herself in a grassy field of small hills. The hum of cicadas buzzed around her. The slightest breeze danced lightly against her back. Bizarrely, Annette thought of Ingrid’s short recitation. Was this her influence? A beautiful, open field with a stunning setting sun above her had not exactly been what Annette had thought endurance would entail. 

Annette narrowed her eyes, scanning all directions around her, turning around. She was in a slight divot between hills – not exactly a valley, but deep enough that she could not see directly over a hill to her right. There had to be something wrong with the scene – this was not endurance. This was lovely. She could not see anything odd or dangerous about the scene: the area was a picture of peace – like the world’s most picturesque pastoral painting. The scent of fresh earth and sweet grass emanated from around her. A butterfly danced to her left, buttery yellow and fragile.

A distant noise – some kind of horn – rang out from her right. Annette looked in its direction but did not see anything above the small hill. She walked up the small incline to her right, scanning the horizon. Far in the distance, she could see the arcing spread of a wooden and stone castle – the Fae Court, perhaps. Another horn split the air, louder this time, but she still did not see anything.

Gradually, she began to hear thumping. Rhythmic noises. Galloping. Horses. Another trumpet, far louder. Annette felt her heart rate pick up. Something was wrong. She knew something; the noise was reminding her of something, but she couldn’t think of it, right now. She turned to look at the sun, which seemed far lower in the sky than it had been mere moments before, splitting the sky in reds and oranges and pinks. The earth began to shudder slightly below her as the noise became louder. A lot of horses. Like an army. Or…

Annette grasped it only a second before she saw the first Fae on horseback before her in the distance, barreling over a small hill, carrying a curved horn in its hand. The helmeted Fae clearly saw her and raised the horn to its lips. Or a _hunting party._

She turned and began to sprint in the opposite direction, scanning the hills before her for anything – anything. She couldn’t outrun a group of Fae on horseback. The thought was ridiculous. While she was in shape, she was barely five feet tall and was dressed in a medieval tunic and pants and leather shoes, not some kind of athletic clothing. She didn’t even have a _sports bra_ on. What in the Goddess’s name was she going to do about a hunting party that was clearly going to treat her like some sort of fox to be caught? 

There was a small forested area in the distance. Maybe she could hide. 

The noise of the horses’ hooves behind her was growing louder. Annette pushed herself into a sprint, already feeling her lungs catching the air in ragged breaths. This was not pacing herself, but there was something to be said about running for one’s life. She didn’t know if she’d ever run so fast before.

The sun was already low in the horizon. Annette had no idea what this meant, that the day was passing by in seconds instead of hours, except that it was growing harder to see. She was almost to the small forested area, but the next blast of a horn was loud now – so loud she winced. Annette forced herself not to waste precious time turning around to see how close the Fae were, or who was behind her, and ran between into the small forested area, gasping for breath, scanning the area.

Nothing. Just a few trees. A few rocks, but far too small to conceal herself. Annette hurried onwards, trying to be careful with tree roots and cursing her predilection to trip. In the distance, there was a wider tree. A hollow tree. Annette looked around herself, slowing her pace, just in case there was something else she could hide in. Or was it wiser to not hide within something she could be easily trapped within? Goddess. Every decision she could make was a terrible one. 

She changed direction to the left and picked up her pace to run once again. Ideally, she could make them believe she’d run past the hollow tree without noticing it, and then double back and hide in the tree when they’d already checked it for her. And it was growing steadily darker, making it harder to see – it would be easier to hide, then. Horse hooves were still pounding on the ground behind her, although they were slower, now, having to weave between trees.

“Human spotted!” a deep voice yelled from behind her.

Annette felt the surge of adrenaline rush through her like cold fire and quickly ducked behind the nearest tree, heart pounding.

“Really.” Another male voice, far more amused. “Hey, now, everyone, slow down.”

The horse steps slowed, and Annette shivered slightly.

“Headed to the left,” the first voice said. “I think.”

“Your left?” A woman’s voice, this time. “And no ‘I think.’ Come on, Raphael. Did you see her or not?”

“Well, now I’m not sure. I thought I saw orange hair.”

_“I_ have orange hair, you dolt, and I was on your left. Did you just see me through the trees for a second?”

Annette could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Goddess. They had to be so close to her.

One of the voices hummed thoughtfully. “I wonder. Miss Human? Can you hear us?”

“Humans have terrible hearing, Claude,” a high-pitched female voice said. “Besides, why would she just reveal herself to us?”

“She has to be smart, to have solved the trial of wit,” the man replied. “Come on, Miss Human. You must be smart enough to know you can’t win this. Let’s end this quickly, shall we? No need for bloodshed.”

Annette tensed against the bark of the tree. It was now so dark that she could barely see directly in front of her.

The muffled thud of a horse’s hooves slowly walking across grass came closer, and closer. The voice, when it came, was almost musical. Teasing. “Miss Human?”

“Claude, really, we ought to be spreading out and searching the area. We aren’t supposed to be dallying around and speaking to thin air.” 

The horse that was getting so close to her abruptly stopped. A snort, apparently from the horse in question. “Oh, seriously, Lorenz, do you _have_ to ruin everything?”

“I am not ruining anything, Claude. There is _order_ to be maintained, in the hunt.”

The Fae continued to bicker. Loudly. And then another voice joined in. And then another. Annette began to slowly, oh-so-carefully, push herself off the tree she’d been bracing herself against, and then began to creep forward, eyes scanning the barely-visible ground in case there was a twig beneath her that would snap. She circled around another tree and began to walk to the right.

All she had to do was make it to the hollow tree trunk, in the dark, without the Fae hearing her.

* * *

“She can’t _die_ in the trial of endurance.”

Felix gritted his teeth and continued doing his best to completely ignore the Fae who had forced his way into the training room and was currently leaning against one of the columns that dotted the place. It was about three in the morning. Annette had been in the trial for eight hours.

“Seriously, Felix. You don’t need to destroy the training dummy because you’re pissed. She’s going to live.”

Another very pointed thrust to the training dummy caused it to rattle in place. 

“At least let this one keep its limbs, you’ve already destroyed two. If you keep going like this, we won’t have any more left for the soldiers.”

Felix flicked his sword and the wooden head to the thing rolled off onto the ground.

“Okay. Fine. Have it your way. Destroy things,” Sylvain said. Felix could hear him rolling his eyes. “Seriously, Felix. You’re overreacting.”

“Fuck off,” Felix said, walking over to the next training dummy that had been set against the wall of the room and dragging it over to the sandy dirt of the training ground.

“Look.” The ground crunched as Sylvain walked up to him, circling around the training dummy to face him. “She’s a cute little human. Being interested in her? Fine. A little obsession? Sure. Have at it. But whatever this is –”

Felix stabbed straight through the soft wood of the dummy and watched with some satisfaction as Sylvain cursed fluently when the tip of Felix’s sword almost grazed him. Felix straightened, carefully pulling the sword out from the dummy in one movement.

“Felix, what the _hell,”_ Sylvain said.

“You’re overreacting,” Felix said flatly.

“Oh, really? I’m overreacting, when you’re the one destroying training dummies because you can’t be helping a human run the trials? Come on, Felix.” Sylvain folded his arms. “You can’t actually be in love with a human.”

“Excuse me?” Felix actually lowered his sword.

“You heard me.” Sylvain frowned at him. It was a rare look on him. Concern. “The last Fae I knew who actually fell in love with a human regretted it so much she killed the next human she saw. They don’t live long enough, Felix. Not for anything serious. Every single story you hear is a tragedy. I mean, just think about your relative.”

Felix could feel his grip on his sword tighten the longer Sylvain spoke.

“I mean, we all know the story. Last human who won the trials completed them because your great-great whatever helped her because he was in love with her. And then, for his trouble, she killed him. That’s why we have all those rules about no help from Fae.” Sylvain raised an eyebrow. “You know. Those same rules you’ve been breaking?”

“No one said I was _in love with anyone,_ ” Felix ground out. “You’re the only person who -”

“Actually, I’m _not_ the only person who’s been questioning your relationship with her. Unless you’ve been living under a rock, which I know you haven’t, you’ve heard the entire Court talking about your affection for her.”

Felix’s lip curled unpleasantly. “Let the Court say whatever the hell they want. And stop assuming ridiculous things.”

“You think that me making a logical inference is ridiculous?” Sylvain snorted, uncharacteristically. “Fine. I don’t expect you to admit it. But it’s not like you, the way you’re acting.”

“No one asked you to worry about me,” Felix snapped.

“Friends worry about each other, Felix.” Sylvain sighed, loudly. “Fine. I’ll leave it alone. Just –”

“Good. Leave it alone,” Felix said. He readjusted his stance, looking at the training dummy again. “This conversation is over.”

Sylvain rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Sure it is.”

There was another pause, broken only by Felix’s rapid slashes to the wood before him. Sylvain watched the destruction in silence for several minutes before speaking again.

“If you really are serious about it, though, we’ll support you, you know.”

“I _said_ this conversation is over,” Felix hissed, straightening to scrub his bangs from his face. 

“Have you checked your little spying orb for her yet?” Light glinted off the small orb Sylvain was playing with in his hands. 

“Something tells me you’re going to for me,” Felix muttered, sinking into his stance again.

“Right you are.” The orb in Sylvain’s hands shone unnaturally. Felix focused on the training dummy, which now featured a series of deep gouges in the wood, and not on the flickers of color reflecting from Sylvain’s hands. “Hm. Ah. Well.”

Despite himself, Felix looked up. Sylvain’s face was uncannily blank. Felix knocked over the dummy and grabbed the sphere from Sylvain, looking at the small image within it.

Annette was being pulled from some sort of tree stump by Claude, who looked highly amused. He had one hand over her mouth and one hoisting her up from the small hollow she’d found. Claude’s voice issued quietly from the sphere (“Miss Human, is this where you’ve been hiding? Come out and say hello”). Annette was struggling, and fighting Claude, and her expression was terrified – 

Felix threw the orb across the room. It hit one of the columns and shattered.

“He’s not going to kill her,” Sylvain said, lowly.

“Shut up,” Felix said. The horror in her eyes. The way she had been kicking at the wood below her as if any motion would help her escape.

“Claude isn’t the worst person Dimitri could have chosen for this,” Sylvain said, quietly, as though his tone would calm him. “And besides, you know their whole party. Lorenz may be a sleazy bastard but he’ll make sure they play by the rules.”

Felix turned away, took a slow breath. 

Sylvain looked to the side. “There’s only got to be, what, four or so hours left of the trial?”

Felix didn’t respond.

“That was the only one I own, you know,” Sylvain said, his tone not quite judgmental. “Am I supposed to tell Dimitri I just dropped it?”

“Yes.” Felix turned and walked from the room. Four hours. 

Four hours.

* * *

“Shh.” The Fae was grinning very widely at her, even as he had a hand pressed over her mouth. He’d dragged her from the stump and corralled her against a tree, and the rough bark was digging into her spine. She remembered his voice – the perpetually amused tone, evident even though he was whispering, now. “We don’t want the others to know, do we?” 

Annette could feel her entire body shaking. It felt like hours had passed since she had successfully managed to hide in the hollow tree. But the sun still hadn’t come up, and the Fae had still searched for her. She knew it was the trial of endurance, but Goddess. Hadn’t it been long enough? And now that this person had found her, she did not know what his plans were. Because this didn’t make sense – he should have been yelling for the others that he’d found her. Wasn’t the trial supposed to be evading capture? She had thought it had been over. And if evading the Fae hadn’t been the trial, what was the trial? 

“It’s okay.” His eyes were a brilliant, unnatural green, lighter than Ingrid’s, and they shone slightly in the dark. “Right now it’s just us. And I want to chat for a minute, just the two of us. You just have to promise me you’ll be quiet. Okay?”

She nodded, barely, and then shuddered as he removed his hand slowly from her mouth.

“There we go.” The man grinned at her. “Do you have a name, Miss Human?”

Annette didn’t move. She was breathing hard and fast, trying with serious effort to get her heartrate under control, to stop herself from trembling.

“No? What a shame.” The Fae tilted his head and Annette realized that she knew his name, from one of the voices in the conversation she’d overheard what felt like hours before. Claude. 

“Wh… What are you doing?” Annette asked quietly, still shaking slightly.

Claude’s grin widened. “Hmm. I wonder.”

Annette could feel her heart rate pick up again despite her best efforts.

“I have a plan, Miss Human. A scheme, if you will. I think it’s more fun to chase than to catch. Maybe I’ll give you another head start and let you run free.” He raised his eyebrows. “What do you think?”

“Isn’t… Isn’t that…” Annette said, barely audible. Because what he was doing had to be against the rules, somehow. Or he was tricking her. 

“Now, you can’t be caught by anyone else. Understand?” He leaned slightly closer and Annette flattened herself against the tree behind her as best she could. His eyes on hers were almost terribly bright. “I don’t think any of the rest of them would be quite so merciful. Your trial would be quickly over if they caught you, I’m sure.”

“Why?” she asked, the quietest whisper she could manage. 

He grinned. Her real question must have been obvious, because he responded as though she’d asked it outright. “I like an underdog, Miss Human. I like an outsider. And you’re both.”

Annette’s brow furrowed slightly. 

“Now, don’t waste it,” he said as he backed away from the tree. “Go run along, now, Miss Outsider. You don’t want to get caught again.”

Annette stayed frozen to the tree for a second longer. For surely this had been some kind of test – some kind of terrible test, and he was going to throw himself at her any second and kill her, or yell for the others. But he was still backing away. 

She fled, forcing herself into a run again. She would flee the forest, this time. Let them think she was hiding in the trees - instead she would be somewhere across the fields, hidden between hills. Annette felt the fear-induced adrenaline flood her like a terrible, exhausting drug as she ran. How much longer was the night going to go on? It was so dark that she could barely see her hand in front of her, barely see the ground below her. The sky was flooded with stars in luminous thick formations, but the moon was hidden, and it had been hard to tell what the terrain was like before she stepped upon it. She tripped several times but forced herself to run onwards. There was no time to waste wondering about that Fae. If he was just going to go back and tell his friends where she was running to, it was too late to worry about it.

Her shin connected with something, and she tripped again, hard, falling on her face and barely pulling her arms up in time to take the majority of the blow. She fought the instinctual urge to cry out and rolled herself up into a seated position, wincing. Goddess. She had to keep running. Was this why they called it the trial of endurance? Annette had never been one for long-distance running, although she was at least more willing to do it than Mercedes. If this had been Mercedes, Annette thought, this probably would have been her last trial. And it was this thought, more than anything, that spurred her to get up and run again. Her best friend was trapped somewhere in this terrible place. She had to run on.

For a long while, the only noise was her feet on the grass, the ragged gasping of her breath. The brush of wind around her felt cold and fleeting, no longer warm and summery as it had been when the sun had been out. Everything ached. An ache that started in her right ankle had gradually traveled up her leg, resting in her hip and jarring her with each step. It felt like she was going to push the ball of her hip out of its socket, like something was falling out of place.

Pain. Pain. Annette shuddered to a halt, feeling the tears gather in her eyes despite herself. She had to run onwards. She had to. It was for Mercie. Mercie was alone, and all by herself. 

But she was alone, as well – it was just her, in an open field, completely exposed and tired. She sunk to her knees, fighting to keep the tears quiet, because the hunting party could be coming at any moment. The only noise in the field was her breath, wavering, gasping, caught between exhaustion, pain, and exertion. She wanted to give up. She really, really wanted to just lie on the grass and cry.

Mercie. Her best friend, her sister. Annette fought for the memories, pulling at them through the haze of pain. She’d been there when no one else in Annette’s life had helped her. Mercedes had done nothing to be in this position – where she could be tortured by the Fae, just as Annette was being chased now.

She gradually worked herself into a standing position. She had to keep running. She needed a very long head start on the horses before the Fae realized she was no longer in the small forest. She needed to keep moving.

* * *

Felix stood silently among the crowd of Fae awaiting Annette’s return. In only a few short minutes, the sun would rise and mark the end of her trial. His head was pounding – some combination of a lack of sleep and the pervasive band of tension across his shoulders and neck. The Fae around him were keeping a short distance from him. The only two nearby were Sylvain and Ingrid, who had found him in the crowd and hovered slightly to his right. Sylvain was leaning against Ingrid, chattering to her about something irreverent. Ingrid’s expression was mildly concerned, clearly barely listening to him. 

But even though they were in the room, and the trial was nearly over, Annette’s face, fearful and horrified, with Claude’s hand over her mouth, kept returning to him. Endurance. The Wild Hunt had discretion over what they did with a human that they caught. They could force her to keep running before them, or they could cause her pain, as long as it was without intent to kill. They could torment her with visions of her family dying, if they so chose – or visions of herself dying. The only thing she had to do was endure it all without begging for mercy. 

Felix could feel his head throbbing. He needed some sleep. In some ways, Sylvain was right – the recurring thought of Annette was not normal. He had seen so many terrified faces over his lifetime of warfare, and it was not like him to be so tormented by just one. And she was human – humans were mortal. They died easily. He should not have been thinking about her, still. Even if she had been attractive. Even if he had feared for her. Even if – 

The air grew thick with power for a moment, and then Annette dropped onto the floor of the throne room, clearly stumbling from the sudden change in her location. She fell on the ground, making only a muffled grunting noise as she did so. The Fae around the room grew silent. She rolled over onto her side, expression screwed up in pain. Felix couldn’t look away.

“You have completed the third trial,” Dimitri said. “You endured through the night.”

The woman didn’t quite move so much as wince. She was streaked in dirt and there were several shards of what looked like bark or twig in her hair. Annette sat up slowly. Felix saw a gash on the front of one of her calves and felt his jaw tighten. The command she’d given him – to ensure no harm came to her – was tightening the constriction in his chest, tightening the band of tension around his shoulders, now that she was no longer in the trial. 

“You will attempt the trial of strength in two days,” Dimitri said.

The woman stood, unsteadily, and Felix saw what was going to happen before it did – her leg was going to give out below her and she was going to fall. He slipped between the crowds and was beside her immediately, had a hand around her waist as she slumped slightly. Annette stiffened at his sudden touch, turning to look at him before meeting his eyes. And then she wilted against him in relief, leaning on him fully. He adjusted his grip on her temporarily and the crowd began to murmur, but he didn’t care, and not only because he despised the manners of the court. Because he was realizing, with her weight against him, that she’d just implicitly trusted him. And that he was really, well and truly, screwed.

Dimitri met his eyes when Felix looked up, but his expression was unreadable. “Why don’t we let the human rest, Court? Felix, it seems you’re willing to escort her somewhere quieter.”

“Your Majesty,” he said, stiffly, and then began to walk. The courtiers parted for him, and he was glad of it. He could feel the prick of their stares on him, feel the weight of the collective gaze of the Court. 

Annette limped beside him, wincing all the while. Her weight on his side was warm, and she smelled of earth and rotted wood. Likely the hollow tree. Annette was favoring her left leg significantly. There was little wrong with her right except the gash in it, but it was possible the Fae had done something else. Felix fought to keep his grip on her waist even, to avoid gripping her any more tightly than was needed to support her. He would have Claude’s fucking head for this. 

They’d made it into the passageways outside of the throne room when Annette finally spoke, her voice hoarse. “Thank you.” 

Felix froze momentarily, still holding her. “You… shouldn’t -”

“Screw that,” Annette said, partially into his shoulder. “I don’t care. I just wanted to thank you. That’s what I needed to do.”

Felix paused a moment. She began to shuffle forward again and he kept her pace.

“Did they do something to your leg?” he asked, keeping his tone even.

“Ran too much, I think.” Annette winced again. “Trying not to think about it right now.”

“What did they do,” he said, flatly. 

“Chased me,” Annette said, and her tone was so tired that Felix suppressed the burning urge to ask more questions.

They were slowing. Annette’s steps were becoming more halting as they kept walking, and the winces between steps were more pronounced. Felix finally stopped walking and looked at her. Her eyes were red and puffy, as though she’d been crying. “As payment for my aid, I demand that you let me carry you back to your room.”

“What?” Annette’s voice cracked slightly. 

“Just stop talking.” Felix leaned down and grasped Annette under the knees and around her shoulders, pulling her off the ground. She wasn’t light, but he’d carried far heavier things for far longer. He tried not to think about how easily she went boneless in his arms. Trust.

“That’s… a stupid thing to waste it on,” Annette said, but her eyes were closing. There was a small shred of grass in her bangs. He looked up from her face with some effort and kept walking.

When they entered his rooms, the goblin woman that Sylvain had sent there was waiting for them. “Oh! Milord, what happened to her?”

“The Wild Hunt,” Felix said shortly. Annette stirred slightly in his arms but didn’t open her eyes. Exhaustion. She’d been awake for over twenty-four hours. “She needs some medicine for her leg. Also, get food and water.”

“Right away,” the woman said, bowing and hurrying from the room. 

Felix kept walking until he shoved open the door of the room he’d housed Annette in, and then walked to the bed and carefully placed her on it. It was a scene so like and yet so unlike the ending of her first trial that he paused, surveying her. The gash in her calf was bloody but ragged – not a cut from a knife or arrow, but possibly from a tree or a branch or a rock. Not intentional. There were no physical wounds on her that he could see. Felix stood for a moment longer, debating, and then lowered himself to a seated position on the edge of the bed. Slowly, he raised his fingers to her bangs and slipped the shred of grass from her hair.

Annette’s eyes cracked open. “Felix?”

“Yes,” he said, quickly pulling his arm away from her. “Medicine should be on its way. For your leg.”

Her eyes were on the ceiling above her, but she did not seem to be seeing the wood above her. “I… am so glad that’s over.”

“What happened?” he asked. No physical injuries did not mean that they had not done other, less visible things. “The Hunt caught you, didn’t they?”

Annette lowered her gaze to him. “You… can see? The trial?”

Felix paused. “Sometimes. I have – it doesn’t matter. I didn’t see a lot.”

Annette closed her eyes for a second, taking a slow breath. He watched her chest rise and fall gently. “They only caught me once. Just one Fae.”

Felix’s hand tightened on his knee. 

“But… he let me go,” Annette said, slowly. “The Fae that caught me. He just told me to run.”

Felix stopped short. “He what?”

“Said… he liked outsiders. Or something.” Annette’s eyes opened a crack again. Her voice was raspy. “Goddess. I thought he was going to kill me.”

Felix processed this surprising piece of information slowly. Claude was, if nothing else, unpredictable. So he didn’t owe the Fae a sword to the throat. “I see.”

“Ran so much,” Annette said, voice becoming thick. “Had horses.”

“You need rest,” he told her. “Stop talking.”

“You keep asking questions,” she said, but her tone wasn’t accusatory.

“I’ll stop.” 

He sat there for a moment longer, and then the door opened again. The goblin woman scurried forward, gave him a look. Felix met her gaze, raising an eyebrow. Her lips pursed, but she balanced the tray of water and food on one hand and carefully began to pour water into a glass.

“Don’t bother,” he said, reaching for the tray. “Get the medicine.”

“Sire,” she said, still grasping the tray.

“Get the medicine,” he repeated, this time with an edge. 

“Of course,” she said, but he didn’t miss the roll of her eyes as she handed him the tray, or the mutter as the door swung shut behind him (“noble Fae, all insane, the lot of them”). Felix set the tray on the tile floor and picked up the now-full glass.

“Water,” he said, holding out the glass to Annette.

She opened her eyes, made a movement as if to sit up, and groaned. “Ow.”

Felix put his arm under her back, easing her into a seated position. She sagged forward slightly, clearly exhausted. He held out the glass again. “Drink.”

Annette looked up at him, for a second, and then dropped her forehead on his shoulder without taking the glass. He froze, his arm still around her. Her breath fanned across his shoulder and chest. He could hear her heartbeat, slow and regular. “Thanks.”

“Stop _thanking_ me,” he said sharply, quickly retreating from her and pushing the water at her. “Drink. It’s an order.”

Annette looked at him for a second, an almost-smile on her face, and drank deeply. “You keep… wasting those.”

“Hardly a waste if you’re going to keep thanking me,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her. He picked up the bread from the tray on the ground and dropped it in her lap. “Eat, too.”

“You’re being nice,” she told him, slowly tearing a piece of bread off.

“Wh-” Felix broke himself off before he truly spluttered at her and glared at her. “You commanded me to keep you from harm.”

She smiled slightly at him. “I appreciate the help. That’s all.”

He huffed slightly, looking away. The smile was dangerous. Everything about this situation was dangerous. “You commanded me.”

“I know,” she said, and she leaned to the side just slightly to catch his eye. It worked. “But I still appreciate it, Felix.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said flatly. “Medicine will be here soon. Stop talking and eat.”

She grinned. “Okay.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you kids enjoy, now

The days before her strength trial had disappeared. Annette had surprisingly only been sore a short while, probably due to her drinking a series of increasingly disgusting concoctions that the goblin had handed her over the course of that first night and morning. Annette had expected to be unable to move for the two days, but found herself out of bed and pacing around the rooms half a day after she’d finished the third trial. The newfound mobility was both a blessing and a curse, for without the distraction of any kind of pain, the next trial was looming terrifyingly before her.

In the story, the heroine had battled a dragon. A _dragon._ Annette couldn’t imagine trying to fight something like the giant, armored creature from her trial of courage, let alone one that breathed fire and flew. Annette had paced, and paced, and paced until she had almost convinced herself she’d worn a small track in the floor.

Almost as if the universe had known that she was going to drive herself insane with worry, Sylvain dropped by the afternoon before her trial. He knocked on the door with a wink and told her that if she was going to keep solving their trials so easily, she deserved to at least see a little bit more of their kingdom. 

“It’s a distraction,” he said, grinning. “I heard you’re all patched up, and I’m sure it’s boring in there. There’s next to nothing in Felix’s rooms. Let’s go for a walk.”

Annette surveyed him doubtfully. “Where are we walking to?”

“It’s perfectly safe,” Sylvain said, grinning. “Cross my heart, as you humans say.”

“Do we?” Annette said. Something about his grin was far too mischievous for her liking.

“Oh, stop worrying,” Sylvain said flippantly. “You can’t stay in one set of rooms forever, you know.”

It was that, and the alternative of just stewing in the same place for hours longer, that finally convinced Annette to let him hurry her from her rooms and into the dirt passageways of the Court.

They walked mostly in silence, and then Sylvain took a turn Annette didn’t recognize into a small room set with several doors arched in what looked like marble. The Fae turned into one of the doors and began walking down the passageway it led to when he recognized she wasn’t following.

He turned. “Come along, Annette. It’s safe.”

Annette narrowed her eyes at him. “Where are we going?”

Sylvain laced his hands behind his head. “Oh, come on, you don’t trust me yet?”

She frowned. “I don’t know.”

“You can trust me,” Sylvain said. That glittering smile of his that she’d been so unsettled by the first time she met him was dancing across his face again. “Follow me.”

Something about the redhaired man was creepy in a way that Annette couldn’t pinpoint. There was something dangerous about him that she didn’t feel when she was around Felix – a gut feeling that she couldn’t shake. But she was this far in the passageways now, and she wasn’t sure if she could go back. And it had to be safe. The Fae couldn’t lie.

She kept walking, and Sylvain grinned at her. “That’s more like it.”

Eventually the tunnel deposited them in a wide room full of columns. A wide stone step surrounded the edge of the area, with dirt and sand below it in the center of the room. And in the center of the room was Felix, attacking what looked like a wooden replica of a man without pausing for breath. Annette paused a moment, watching. Sylvain stopped alongside her at the room’s entrance, but she hadn’t noticed his eyes on her. 

For Annette hadn’t truly seen Felix fight before, having been otherwise preoccupied during the first trial, and now that she saw it – it had almost been mesmerizing, really. The arc of the wooden sword in his hand flashed so quickly that she was more aware of the wooden structure before him reacting to the blow than she was of the actual movement of the sword. The small metal fastenings on his clothing glinted off the glow of flames from the sconces around the room. His hair flicked back and forth as he lunged, and she could see the muscles in his arms move as he did. And it was graceful. Deadly. Beautiful. 

Sylvain let out a small huff of breath beside her. “Like what you see?”

“What?” Annette quickly looked up at him. Sylvain was grinning, catlike, at her. “What! No, that’s not what – that’s _not_ what I was doing.”

“So you weren’t staring?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Hm. I would say otherwise.”

“Well – that – it’s not like that,” Annette said, collecting herself but feeling the flush gather on her cheeks nonetheless. Felix was attractive, but – Felix was attractive in the terrible, unattainable way that villains in storybooks were. Deadly and fierce. Like the horrible flash of lightning arcing down from the sky. Stunning, but entirely too unknown and untouchable to be yours. 

“Hm.” Sylvain hummed but didn’t respond otherwise.

Annette turned to look around the room, pointedly avoiding looking at Felix. There were a few other Fae in the room, but most of the other Fae keeping their distance from where Felix was still relentlessly attacking the wooden man. They were going through what looked like practice drills with weapons of their own. “Is this some kind of weapons practice room?”

“Training room,” Sylvain said. “Oh – he saw us.”

Annette looked to Felix immediately, who had indeed turned to look at them and was beginning to walk quickly over to them. “Why does he look angry?”

“Oh,” Sylvain said, grinning widely at her. “I wouldn’t worry about that. Felix is always mad about something. You should get used to it.”

“What are you doing here?” Felix was striding up to them. Annette could see the sheen of sweat on him, the slight flush on his cheeks, and he brought with him the scent of something like clove or pine, the same thing that she had smelled when Mercedes had disappeared. Annette could feel herself flush a bit as he walked closer, remembering Sylvain’s words – because she had been staring. A little.

“She was trapped in her room,” Sylvain said, now grinning at Felix. “She needed fresh air.”

“Air is hardly fresh anywhere in the Court. We’re underground,” Felix said flatly.

“Annette was admiring your swordsmanship,” Sylvain said, and Annette fought the sudden urge to do something incredibly childish, like stamp on his foot or jab him in the ribs with her elbow. He wasn’t even her friend – barely an acquaintance – but it felt ridiculously cheap to be sold out so immediately. 

Felix’s eyes widened a fraction and he turned to look at her. 

“Um,” Annette said, intelligently, wavering on what to say without entirely revealing that she had been staring. “You’re very fast.”

Sylvain’s grin widened until she could see his canines. “Heh, I bet he’d be fast –”

Felix barely looked at him as he whacked him in the back of the head with the wooden sword he’d been holding. 

“Shit, Felix, ow,” Sylvain said, rubbing the back of his head and wincing. 

“I was done anyways. Let’s go,” Felix said, mostly to Annette. He threaded the wooden sword on his belt and then walked past her through the doorway behind her.

“Go where?” she asked, following. 

Felix didn’t turn to look at her. “You should probably go back to my rooms. Too many Fae will be curious about you if you’re wandering around. You don’t want that.”

“Curious?” she repeated, hurrying so that she was walking at his side. 

“Oh, sure, leave me behind,” Sylvain said loudly from behind them.

“We’re trying to,” Felix snapped.

“Oh, am I unwanted?” Annette could hear the amusement suffuse Sylvain’s voice. “Should I leave you two –”

Felix turned. “Fuck off.”

“Man, Annette, how do you put up with living with this guy?” Sylvain was suddenly directly behind her. 

“The real question is how I haven’t murdered you sometime over the past four hundred years,” Felix said. Annette got the impression that this was a conversation that had occurred many, many times beforehand.

“It’s probably my pretty face,” Sylvain said, nudging Annette. “Right?”

“What?” she said, suddenly feeling self-conscious. 

“Leave her alone,” Felix said, shooting a look at Sylvain.

Annette cleared her throat. “So, um, anyways – curious about what, Felix?”

Felix paused a second. “Curious about you. Because you agreed to do the trials, and because you’ve completed all of them so far.”

Sylvain hummed knowingly behind them. “The Court’s fascinated with you.”

“Really?” Annette asked. She felt the phantom press of gazes on her, the same as when she’d walked through the room during the introduction and conclusion to her last trial. 

“You don’t want that,” Felix said flatly. “Do your best to avoid them. Including Sylvain.”

“Excuse me!” Sylvain pushed between them a second. “Annette, I only want what’s best for you. I promise.”

“Fae don’t need to promise,” Felix said coldly, and then turned to Annette. “Ignore him.”

Sylvain fell back, clicking his tongue slightly. “Mm. Well, I suppose you could ignore me. After all, you don’t need _me_ to tell you what the fourth trial is. Felix can tell you.”

Felix stopped walking about the same millisecond she did. Annette found herself frozen for a half-second, and then she rounded on Felix. “What? You know what the fourth trial is?”

Felix glared at Sylvain, who shrugged innocently.

“What is it?” She took a step towards Felix. Felix looked to the side as though he could ignore her. “Oh, come on. Felix! Help me out, here.”

“Yeah, Felix, help the poor woman out,” Sylvain said, his voice a slow, amused drawl. 

“Leave it alone,” Felix said to Sylvain over Annette’s head, his voice cold.

“Come on. Don’t you think she deserves to know?”

Annette turned slightly to look between Sylvain and Felix. Her eyes narrowed. Something was going on, and she was going to get to the bottom of this. “Well, Sylvain, if you know, why don’t you tell me?”

Felix tensed. “If you even think about –” 

“I think Felix should tell you, Annette,” Sylvain said, looking at her, amusement fading from his face. “Don’t you, Felix?”

Felix made a wordless noise somewhere between a grunt and a cough.

“I won’t tell His Majesty. I promise.” Sylvain raised his eyebrows slightly. “Besides, neither of us are really helping her. We’re just telling her something. It can’t help her during the trial itself. If it’d help her so much, you won’t be able to say it.”

Felix sighed, deeply. “This is your fault, Sylvain.”

“Sure.” Sylvain shrugged. “I’ll take the blame.”

Annette narrowed her eyes at Felix, waiting. The man turned to her. His jaw worked for a second before he spoke. “It’s me.”

“What?”

“I said, it’s me. The trial is me.” Felix folded his arms and turned slightly as though to walk away.

“Wait, hold on,” Annette said, taking a step forward and grabbing his arm. “What do you mean, it’s you? Like…”

“You have to retrieve something from me. That’s the trial.” Felix shrugged her off. 

“Well, that’s…” Annette blinked at him, her mouth slowly spreading into a smile. “Well, that’s easy, isn’t it? I just command you to give it to me.”

“Your commands don’t work in the trials, if they’re to help you complete the trial,” Felix said flatly. 

“Oh, right. Well then, can’t you just give it to me, whatever it is?” Annette walked quickly around him so she was facing him. 

Felix looked away from her. “No. You have to take it from me. That’s the trial.”

Annette looked between Felix and Sylvain. “What, like, by force?”

“It _is_ a trial of strength,” Sylvain said lightly. “And Felix is the General of the Faerie Court. Seems obvious why he’s the trial.”

“But –” Annette looked at Felix, remembering the grace with which he’d fallen on the wooden statue he’d attacked. “But hold on, that’s – that’s ridiculous. How am I supposed to fight you?”

Felix didn’t respond. He still wasn’t meeting her eyes.

“What the hell,” Annette said, mostly to herself. “Am I – am I supposed to just _ask_ you for a sword in order to fight you? I can’t even take anything in with me to the trial!”

Felix let out a breath. “That’s the trial, all right? I told you what it was. I can’t explain to you how to do it. And I have work to do.”

“But –” He was already past her before she had finished saying the word, walking quickly down the hallway. Annette gritted her teeth. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

Sylvain was silent. Annette watched as Felix turned the corner before them and disappeared from her view. She took a deep breath and let it out. “How am I supposed to _fight_ him?”

Sylvain made a humming noise behind her.

“I mean, that’s ridiculous,” she said, primarily for her own benefit. “I mean, he’s – I don’t even know _how_ to fight. No one knows how to fight anymore. Beyond maybe, like, basic self-defense to use against a drunk guy at a party.”

“He has a weakness, you know.” Sylvain, behind her. Annette stilled. “Felix does.”

“What?” Annette turned on her heel so quickly she almost fell over. “What do you mean, a weakness?”

Sylvain grinned at her, just slightly. “What, you thought he was infallible?”

“W-Well,” Annette said, “I mean, he is a general. Of an army. He’s not exactly what you’d call weak.”

“Everyone has a weakness,” Sylvain said. “And I happen to know his.”

“I can’t imagine you’re just going to tell me it, are you?” Annette watched as Sylvain’s smile gradually spread across his face. “Or maybe you can’t, even. If that would help me with the trial.”

“Hm.” Sylvain grinned to himself. “Well, actually, even if I was certain I could, it’s no fun to outright tell you.”

Annette frowned. “So. If you can tell me, what are you asking for in exchange?”

“Oh, it’s not a bargain I’m looking for,” he said, lacing his hands behind his head. “You just have to figure it out, that’s all.”

“What?” Annette took a step closer to him, annoyed. “You say all that and then just tell me to figure it out?”

“I might give a few hints.” He grinned. “If you ask nicely.”

“Please,” she said, folding her arms. “Oh, pretty please, Sylvain. You’re the nicest, most best Fae that ever lived.”

“Wow.” His eyes on hers became serious. “You’re lying. So you can do it after all.”

Annette paused. It was sarcasm – she hadn’t considered it a lie. But she supposed that sarcasm was kind of a lie.

“Funny, though,” he commented, as if realizing something idly. “You don’t lie very much to Felix, do you? I’ve never heard you lie to him.”

“Well – well, why would I have to?” Her eyes narrowed at him. “I mean, _he_ doesn’t make me ‘ask nicely’ because he can’t be bothered to just tell me something.”

Sylvain grinned as if at some private joke. “I bet he might like it if you did, though.” 

She frowned at him. Sylvain grinned beatifically back at her. He was definitely just messing with her.

“Well, here’s a hint for you. Since I guess you did ask nicely.” He tilted his head at her. “His weakness resides in the same place you do.”

Annette’s brow furrowed. “Really?”

“Yep.” Sylvain smiled.

Annette considered this. She hadn’t really explored the rooms that Felix had placed her in, let alone the ones around her, although they belonged to Felix. Maybe there was something within them that he was weak to. Some kind of Fae kryptonite that he kept hidden because it had some kind of power over him. The rooms she had passed through were largely ornamental, opulent and somewhat ridiculously decorated in jewel tones, primarily deep blues. There had been several weapons on the walls, too, apparently serving as decoration: shields and swords and lances and curved pieces of metal Annette didn’t have names for.

“Is it a weapon?” she asked him.

Sylvain’s smile widened. “Hm. I wonder.”

“Is that the only hint you’ll give me?” Annette sighed. “That it’s in his rooms?”

“Maybe it’s not always in his rooms,” Sylvain said, raising an eyebrow at her.

Annette frowned at him. “Maybe? I don’t know if ‘maybe’ means anything. Or are you saying, ‘it is not always in his rooms’?”

Sylvain grinned at her. “Annette, what did I tell you earlier?”

“That it’s in the same place I reside,” Annette said, impatiently. “And I’ve been staying in Felix’s rooms, haven’t I? So it has to be there.”

“Oh, Annette.” Sylvain sighed theatrically. “Dear Annette. Why don’t you just think on what I’ve told you? Fae can’t lie, you know.”

“But it seems to me like _maybe_ you could be talking around the truth,” Annette said, feeling her hands form into fists despite herself. Because he was talking down to her, and he knew it.

Sylvain’s mouth curled into a smirk. “You’re a smart woman. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“That can’t be all you’re going to say,” Annette said, taking a step forward as if to grab him by the front of his shirt –

And he was gone, leaving only the smallest trace of the scent of dried leaves. Annette groaned. 

She began to walk back to the rooms, thankful that she remembered the way, all the while considering Sylvain’s words. If his weakness _was_ a weapon, she couldn’t take it with her. The trials didn’t let her take anything with her outside of the clothing she was wearing. But somehow, Sylvain had seemed far too smug about the prospect of this so-called weakness for it to be effectively useless to her.

Unless he was just screwing with her. Annette sighed, deeply. Goddess. Maybe he was just screwing with her and whatever Felix was weak to, it wouldn’t help her. She tried to remember if Sylvain had directly told her that what the weakness was would be helpful to her and couldn’t remember him saying anything of the sort.

All the same, Sylvain hadn’t lied. He couldn’t. There really was a weakness, and it really did reside in Felix’s rooms. Annette paused. Felix had said he had work to do – probably something general-related. She didn’t know how much time this would give her, but it would give her time.

It was time to explore.

* * *

Felix walked into his room and froze.

Annette was perched on a small stool that she had clearly dragged over from another room and was on her tiptoes, reaching upwards towards Aegis. He had about one second to survey the scene in shock (when the hell did she find his room?) before he realized that Annette’s fingers were about to brush Aegis and she was about to turn into a beast before his very eyes.

He leaped forward and yanked the woman around the waist off the stool and away from the shield. Annette shrieked directly in his ear.

“What,” he said, feeling fury gather within him, “do you think you’re doing?”

“Ah!” Annette yelped again, stiff in his arms. He spun her around and put his hands on her shoulders to keep her in place. She grimaced, clearly feeling guilty. “F-Felix!”

“I asked you what you thought you were doing,” he repeated, hands tightening on her. Her eyes widened slightly.

“U-Um,” she said, and he had been so angry he hadn’t even faltered at the sudden tremble in her voice. “W-Well, um, it’s… a very nice shield?”

“Do you even _know_ what that is?” he asked, his voice loud even in his own ears. 

“Um. It – It’s a shield?” she repeated. He felt the pressure of her straining to bend slightly away from him but didn’t loosen his grip. Her voice grew smaller. “Isn’t it?”

“It isn’t just a _shield,_ Annette,” he said. “Not for you. It’s cursed.”

“Cursed?” she repeated, her voice barely a whisper. Felix could see Miklan, now dead, hear his screams as the Lance of Ruin overtook him because it hadn’t chosen him – it had chosen Sylvain. He could see the terrible arcing black sinew that seemed to course through the man’s very flesh, consuming him. 

Felix took a deep breath, trying to calm himself but not entirely succeeding. “I’m the only one who can use that shield. If you had touched it, ‘you’ as you know it would be gone. You’d be a beast.” 

Annette had frozen, her face a mask of horror. 

“If I would have come in one second later,” Felix said, his grip loosening, “you’d have died a terrible, terrible fucking death.”

Annette hadn’t moved. He could feel the smallest tremble in her shoulders.

Felix took a deep breath, trying to remember himself. He removed his hands from her shoulders, flexing his fingers slightly to relieve the tension. Because he had been frightening her. He could tell. Even if it was serving a purpose, even if he wanted to prevent her from poking around and getting herself killed, it had not been what he wanted to do.

“I would have had to…” he said, quieter, and then thought better of it. It was probably better not to tell her that he would have had to kill her. “Don’t – don’t go around touching things. Please.”

“S-Sorry,” she said. Annette laced her arms around herself as though she could protect herself. Comfort herself. 

Felix felt what remained of his horrified anger melt into chagrin at the sight. Annette was looking at the ground between them.

“I –” He cleared his throat. “I yelled at you only because you – you need to understand –”

“No, I get it.” Annette shook her head quickly. “I – I didn’t, I just didn’t know.”

He looked at the ground along with her for a second. Annette shivered, again, a full-body shudder. Felix resisted the urge to reach out and put a hand on her shoulder. Or something. It was unlikely she would find it comforting, after he had manhandled her.

“Goddess,” Annette said, very quietly. 

Felix stood before her a second more before looking around the room, checking Aegis. And then he remembered himself. “Hold on. You still haven’t explained what you’re doing in here.”

“Oh.” Annette swallowed, clearly tensing again. “Well.”

“Well?” he repeated, raising his eyebrows. 

“Um.” Annette flushed, not meeting his eyes.

“You were trying to steal my shield?” Felix asked, folding his arms.

“Well – not exactly,” she said, mouth curving into the slightest grimace. “Um. Well. You see, um, I was… looking for something?”

“Looking for a _shield?”_ Felix asked. “Is this about the trials? You can’t take anything with –”

“No, I know that,” Annette said, waving a hand.

“Well then, what?” Felix surveyed her closely.

“I wasn’t… I mean, um. So. Sylvain told me –” Felix tensed instantly – “Sylvain told me that, well, um, you have… well, that there’s something here. In your rooms.”

“What?” Felix paused. Whatever he’d expected, it hadn’t been this. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Um.” Annette grimaced slightly. “Well. He said you had something important in your rooms.”

“Important how?” There was nothing of much note in the rooms. He barely used them – he’d used them more since Annette had arrived than he’d used them in the past fifty years or so. Why the hell had Sylvain told her there was something in his room? Was he just making fun of Felix, coercing Annette into his room?

Annette swallowed. “Um. I command you, Fraldarius, not to tell anyone the next sentence that I say.”

Felix felt the shudder of the command over him and rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m not going to talk about this with anyone.”

“He said you have a weakness in your rooms.” Annette looked at him.

Felix paused, entirely thrown by this. He stared at her for a second, trying to judge to see if she was lying, but her face looked entirely too serious to be joking. “He said what?”

“He said – well, he said that you had a weakness,” Annette said. “Um, so, please don’t use that against me somehow in the fourth trial, but I was going to look for it –”

“A weakness?” Felix snorted. “That’s a lie.”

“But he can’t lie,” Annette said, quietly. “So… I mean.”

Felix looked around the room another time as though it would give him some indication. “Sylvain likes to mess with people. I have no idea what the hell he’s getting at. He said I have a weakness in my room?”

“Well, it’s hard to remember exactly what he said.” Annette looked up, biting her lip slightly. “His words were closer to, ‘Felix has a weakness,’ and he said, ‘it’s in the same place where you reside.’”

“In the same –” Felix broke off, suddenly understanding. The _bastard._

The shift in expression must have shown on his face because Annette took an immediate step forward. “Oh! You totally know what he’s talking about! Don’t you?”

“I can’t tell you, Annette,” he said, turning slightly, for the first time grateful for Dimitri’s command, which pricked at him at the thought of telling her what Sylvain had meant. 

“Oh!” Annette hurried around him to try to look him in the eyes. “Oh, come on! Seriously. Can’t you fight it? Just a little bit?”

“No.” Felix shook his head. “Telling you what Sylvain means would be helping you in the trial.”

“Come on! But you told me what the trial was, even.” Annette actually stamped her foot slightly, and Felix fought to repress the sudden, unexpected smile. 

“Sorry.” He looked at her. She was frowning at him, fiercely, as though it would convince him to somehow break the command over his true name. “The command covers things that would aid you in the trials. Telling you what the trial is wouldn’t help you. But this would.”

“Ugh!” Annette spun around, throwing up her hands. “Goddess! Magic is so annoying! I mean, come on! And does it mean it’s in my room, if it’s in the same place I reside? There’s nothing in my room!”

Felix let out a slow breath. Somehow, she hadn’t realized. 

“Is there like a trap door or something in there?”

It was a small boon and yet a terrible comfort at the same time.

* * *

“Today is the trial of strength. Win, and you will complete your trial.” The king stared at her from the throne. Annette failed to fight the urge to swallow. The Court had gathered around the edges of the room again, chattering instead of whispering this time. She barely heard them. 

Felix had not been in the rooms when she had awoken, although she had walked through them earlier that morning to search for him. What she had planned to say to him, she hadn’t known. Instead of finding him, Annette had made her way to the throne room with Sylvain at her side, who had been uncharacteristically silent as they did so. His mood had reflected her own – mute unease. Fear. Uncertainty.

Because, at the end of the day, how on earth was she supposed to _fight_ Felix? She’d spent the remaining hours of her night scouring her room for anything unnatural, but it had been all smooth wood and tile. There hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary. She’d eventually given up in order to sleep and had only been awoken by the knock at her door, greeted with Sylvain’s grave expression.

Annette took a deep breath as the king raised his hand slightly from the arm of the throne, and then the air shimmered around her and she closed her eyes as her vision warped –

When her ears were greeted with silence instead of the murmur of the Court, she opened her eyes and found herself in a stone room. Circular and smooth, the stone wall and floor appeared unbroken, as though carved from a single, giant rock. And in the center of the room, only a few paces away from her, was Felix.

“Good morning,” she said, tentatively. 

Felix’s expression was serious. He was dressed in dark blue clothing she hadn’t seen before that almost resembled a robe. His swords were sheathed at his waist, and a shield that glowed a bizarre orange color – the one she had almost touched the other day, she recognized – was strapped to his back. Annette swallowed, again, feeling the unnatural dryness in her mouth again and recognizing its origin as anxiety.

“Um, are you – are you going to tell me what I’m supposed to take from you?” she said.

“It’s this,” he said, one hand flicking up to his chest to a small… broach? Button? It had been hard to tell, exactly, but it was a silver thing stamped with an indented –

“Is that a crest?” Annette asked. “Like, a family crest?”

“Yes.” Felix’s eyes on hers were serious, as well. He was typically serious, but there was a weight to his gaze that she hadn’t seen in some time. Something about that distant look in his eyes made her heart rate pick up.

“Um. Are you going to attack me?” she asked. Her voice was small even to her own ears.

Felix’s expression flickered slightly, and he looked away. “No.”

“I see.” Annette took a small step forward. The noise echoed in the stone room. Goddess. How was she supposed to do this? “Can I… see it?”

Felix glanced up at her, apparently evaluating her for a second, before he looked away again. “You can’t touch it.”

“Okay.” She took a few steps forward until she was within a pace of being flush against him and surveyed the small object she was apparently supposed to take. It was indeed actually some kind of broach, pinned to his robe. A small indented series of marks apparently indicated his family crest. She raised her arm –

Felix’s hand was immediately on her wrist. His grip wasn’t tight, but he held her arm in place, inches from the small silver clasp. His eyes on hers were almost regretful. 

“Can’t blame a girl for trying?” Annette said, grimacing. 

“I can’t let you take it,” he said, and his voice was quiet. 

“Right.” Annette pulled at her arm and he let her go. “So. Um. How does this work?”

“You try to take it from me,” he said. “That’s it.”

“Are we… supposed to sword fight?” Annette asked.

“You can do whatever you want to try to take it.” Felix folded his arms. 

Annette paused. “Okay. Can… you lend me a sword then?”

Felix huffed out a breath. “You can’t beat me, Annette. Don’t bother.”

“Am I supposed to just give up?” Annette frowned right back at him. “I can’t just – I’m not going to give up. I can’t leave Mercie here.”

Felix looked at her a second longer, gravely, and then slid one of his swords from its scabbard. “Fine. This is the smaller one.”

“Isn’t that a disadvantage?” Annette asked. 

“It’s not an advantage to have a longer sword that’s so heavy you can’t hold it. You might actually be able to swing this one.” He spun the sword so the pommel was facing her. 

Annette had never actually held a sword that wasn’t made of plastic, the kind you brandished about for a Halloween costume. But this was a trial of strength. She needed a weapon. Annette took the leather pommel in both hands and winced when Felix let go. It was, indeed, heavy. The blade was entirely silver, gleaming beautifully as though just polished. She raised it slightly and winced again. The weight of the sword was enough to make any sudden movement difficult.

Felix let out a quiet sigh before her. “Your grip is terrible.”

“What?” Annette looked up. 

Felix walked over to stand beside her, so close that their sides almost brushed. He looked at her hands, held his out in front of him as if to imitate what she should be doing, and then stopped. He sighed again. “Annette, please, just give me the sword back.”

“No.” She took a step backwards and waveringly pointed it in his direction. “Make me.”

Felix’s eyes on hers were almost – she couldn’t exactly read the emotion. Something grim. “I don’t want to have to, Annette.”

Annette gritted her teeth at him. “Felix, I need that little clasp thing. Okay?”

“I’m aware,” he said, taking a step forward. She took a step back, still fighting to keep the sword tip in his direction.

“You could give it to me,” she said. 

“I can’t,” he said, and his voice was tight. 

“Please?” she asked. The waver in her voice wasn’t planned. 

Felix faltered slightly but took another step forward. “You’re going to hurt yourself with that sword.”

“No, I won’t,” she said, taking another step backwards. Her arms were now aching. The tip of the sword shook slightly.

“Stop this,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “You’re going to lose your grip and stab yourself or something. Give me back the sword.”

“I need something,” Annette said, feeling frustration rise in her, “I need something, Felix. I can’t – I can’t beat you. This trial is stupid!”

“Stabbing yourself is also stupid,” Felix said, and suddenly his hand was on her. He pinched something in her forearm and she released the sword into his other hand despite herself.

“Ow!” she said, pulling her arm away from him and rubbing at her arm. “What was that?”

“Pressure point,” he said shortly, sheathing the sword. 

“I needed that!” she said, still rubbing her arm. The spot he’d pressed tingled slightly. “Felix! Goddess. How am I supposed to do this?”

“You would have just hurt yourself,” he said flatly. “You don’t want to end up with a stab wound.”

“W-Well, maybe it would’ve been better than having no weapon at all,” she said.

He sighed, looking away from her. “Oh, so letting you lose your grip and having my sword go through your leg was a better alternative?”

“I wouldn’t have dropped it,” she insisted, finally dropping her arm. “This is ridiculous. I have to fight you, but I have no weapon.”

Felix let out a breath through his nose but didn’t respond to this.

“Fraldarius, I command you to give me the crest,” Annette said. 

Felix just looked at her.

She let out a breath, too, frustrated, feeling angry tears threaten to rise to her eyes as her face flushed. “Goddess! This is ridiculous!”

“We’ve been over this. I can’t just _give_ it to you,” Felix said, so long-sufferingly that Annette snapped. 

“Fraldarius, I command you to – to – ” Annette spluttered for a moment, only further frustrating her, “to tell me that I’m perfect, and stunning, and you’re going to give me the stupid crest.”

Felix’s eyes widened at her. Shock. Annette opened her mouth, surprised herself. 

And then the surprise was gone from his expression, smoothed away. He took a step forward until he was directly in front of her, and then he had his hand raised, slid it along her jaw until he was cupping the side of her face. Annette found herself rooted in place, shocked by his sudden closeness, the fact that he was touching her, and the fact that his eyes on hers were dark, perfectly serious.

“Annette,” he said, and his voice was quiet, low.

“Um,” she said, and her voice was definitely higher than normal. “You – you don’t need –” 

“You are perfect.” Felix slid his thumb across her cheek. 

Annette knew she’d opened her mouth again to speak but couldn’t think of what she had intended to say.

“You are stunning.” Felix leaned just a fraction closer to her, and she could see the flecks of orange and brown in his red eyes, and she knew her face was staining red. She could tell. The sudden warmth of his other hand settling on her hip didn’t help either.

“And I’ll give you the stupid crest,” he finished. He didn’t release her immediately, and they stood there for a second, Annette feeling the flush suffuse her face and ears and neck. 

“I –” Annette swallowed involuntarily. His eyes on hers were still serious, intent. “Um. I – I mean, I didn’t think that that would work.”

Felix released her and turned away just as quickly as he’d walked up to her. “Your commands work as long as they don’t help you win the trials.”

“R-Right,” she said, taking a deep breath. Goddess. What. Had that been. She swallowed again, forcing herself to think. To think rationally. The majority of her brain was still… wading through whatever she’d just experienced. Because she hadn’t commanded – that. She hadn’t – not really. The words were hers. But the rest of it hadn’t been hers. Did that mean he had just… voluntarily done so? 

Annette felt the final piece of Sylvain’s riddle click into place. Oh. _Oh._ A weakness that inhabited the same space that she did. There was only one thing that could always inhabit the same place she did, and thus make Sylvain’s words true: herself.

No wonder Sylvain had been so irritatingly smug.

“Felix,” she said, feeling her voice shake slightly.

“What?” He didn’t turn around.

“Um.” Annette took a few steps around him until she was facing him. He met her eyes, defiant. “Um, so.”

“What?” he said, sharper this time. 

Annette took another step forward, towards him. Felix didn’t move, but there was a sudden tension to his posture that made Annette pause a moment before taking her next step. She was either about to really embarrass herself or – or do about the most reckless thing she’d done since she had agreed to the trials. Likely both.

She licked her lips, just slightly, and he followed the motion with his eyes. “Can I,” she said, very quietly, still gathering the courage.

“Can you what? Have the crest? No, you fucking can’t,” Felix said, sharply, looking away from her again.

“Oh, be quiet,” Annette said, the sudden spike of annoyance giving her the courage she needed. She took the final step forward, grasped the front of his robe and leaned upwards, and Felix froze, his arms uncrossing. And just above her, his pupils blew out. She took in a breath herself, and then leaned upwards a fraction more and pressed her lips on his.

His reaction took about a half-second, but it was still the longest she’d seen him wait to react to something. And then – Annette felt herself flush as his lips moved on hers, and her heart rate picked up exponentially, and his hands slipped around her and her hand on his robe clenched tighter for a second because _this_ was not what she had expected, to feel the sudden rush of warmth and pleasure and his lips moving on hers, hungrily, and she slipped a hand up to his face and –

She focused herself, barely, wavering slightly when he pulled her fractionally closer, and the warmth of his body on hers, and she could feel his heart beating faster, and she could feel her body temperature rising as his hand slipped into her hair and he was very good at this, kissing her – 

Annette mentally slapped herself. She had a goal. She was not just – just going to enjoy this, even if it was proving remarkably easy to do so, and he had made a low noise in his throat when she’d opened her mouth and – Annette actually blinked to clear her head. She unclenched her hand slightly on his robe and inching it slightly to the left, where his broach was. Felix didn’t react to that, and she was fully aware as to _why,_ because she was honestly struggling to be less preoccupied with it herself. And then grabbed the crest unseeingly, and _pulled_ it as hard as she could and it ripped the fabric but her fingers were clenched around the small metal thing – 

Felix immediately pushed her away, forcibly. She stumbled backwards, chest heaving. The sudden cool air on her was well-needed, and not just because she’d been so embarrassed to kiss him in the first place. It took her a second to gather the courage to actually look up at him.

She saw his expression change more than she saw the original shock that had marked his features, watched as he tensed, the sudden fury in his eyes and face and the set of his jaw growing more pronounced. Annette swallowed. He took a short breath in, staring straight at her, apparently trying to control his breathing. 

“So you got the crest,” he said, flatly. 

Annette swallowed again.

“Congratulations.” 

“Felix,” she said, and her voice was very quiet. What was she supposed to say?

He tensed further, and she saw the tremble in his breath as he fought with his clearly visible rising anger. And then he’d strode up to her and was directly before her. Annette immediately put her hand with the crest in it behind her back, moving to take a step backwards herself. Felix had his hands on her shoulders before she could move away. She looked up tentatively at him. When they met eyes, the fury had mostly gone from his face, replaced with something unreadable. 

“I – ” Annette started, not sure how to apologize.

Felix narrowed his eyes at her. “Shut up.”

And then he leaned down and kissed her. 

It was about as demanding a kiss as the last one, but it felt more purposeful instead of a sudden hungry reaction to her lips on his. He’d released her shoulders to cup her face and neck and Annette could feel herself melting, or something like it, because her whole world narrowed to the feeling of his lips on hers and his hands on hers and she’d lost her grip on most everything else. She laced her arms around him and time passed slowly, or quickly, or – she really couldn’t say, because nothing else had mattered besides the spreading warmth through her and how responsive he had been to her movements and the almost heady sense that this was how she wanted to spend her time, from now on. 

When he pulled away, she’d stared up at him, chest heaving. He was breathing harder, himself. Annette was struggling to collect herself, because he was tracing a small circle around one of her hips with a thumb and he looked very pleased with himself and that expression was very distracting. And then Felix looked down at the ground by her feet, and his mouth spread into a slow smile. Annette blinked and followed his gaze.

On the floor, glimmering, with a small scrap of blue fabric attached to it, was the crest. 

Annette jumped, immediately pulling away from Felix. Because what was she _doing?_ She had been kissing a Fae who was technically right now her opponent, and she had been so – distracted. Very distracted. Annette felt herself flush dark red. She had been kissing Felix, and she hadn’t meant to, and it had just _happened_ and she hadn’t been able to pull herself away. 

She dropped to the floor, away from him, to immediately try to take the crest back before he could. Because she had been so careless – she hadn’t even realized she had dropped it. Somewhere in the haze of being very thoroughly kissed, it had slipped from her fingers. Annette felt the red flush travel to her neck, her ears, as her fingers brushed the crest.

“I’m not going to take it from you,” Felix said from above her. “You won the trial.”

“What?” Annette said, looking up. 

But the air shimmered and, instead of Felix, she saw the king of the Fae, who was staring at her, eyes wide in surprise. The Court was no longer thronging the outskirts of the room but had instead dispersed throughout the room. The chatter hushed, as many turned to stare at her, kneeling on the ground holding the small silver object in her hands.

The king cleared his throat. “It appears you won your trial.”

Annette stared back at him, feeling almost equally as surprised, as the Court around them erupted with voices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I’m sure you suspected, Sylvain stole Ingrid’s spying orb and watched the whole trial. 
> 
> (“Ingrid! You have to watch this!” / “I am not going to spy on Felix, Sylvain! Put that down!” / “Oh, fuck.” / “What?” / “We’re screwed.” / “What?” / “She’s kissing Felix.” / “ _What?!_ Hand it over!”)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the sudden two-week absence. If this is abrupt, I apologize. This was a challenging chapter for me to write for whatever reason.
> 
> For reasons you will soon understand, the next chapter had to be posted as one giant lump one instead of me dividing the writing between Ch 7 & 8, so this is a short chapter. Hence the double posting on one day :)

“What do you think she’ll dream of?” Sylvain asked, one hand propped under his head. He was sprawled out on a wooden bench to the edge of the room, eyeing Felix.

Felix didn’t respond. They were in one of the weapons rooms in the Court, and Felix was running one of his blades methodically over the frenetically spinning grindstone in the center. Sparks flew up at him.

“You think she’ll dream of you?”

Felix’s eyes narrowed as he continued sharpening the sword. The steady vibration of the sword under his hands, the sharp pain of the sparks on his skin.

Sylvain sighed. “Yeah, I didn’t expect you to answer that.”

Felix had arrived at the edge of the throne room to find the Court in utter disarray. Annette had been in the center of the room, guarded by Sylvain, who was being so affable while deflecting the courtiers away from her that no one had objected to him doing so, and Ingrid, who looked bemused by the entire situation. Dimitri had looked stunned. Felix had smiled at the sight.

The king had decreed that she was to begin the fifth trial that night. Temperance. The trial of denial. Ingrid had shepherded Annette back to her room. Felix had gone to polish Aegis. And then to sharpen his sword. And generally to focus on things other than the fact he could still feel her lips on his, could still hear the soft noise she had made against his mouth when –

“You’d probably just dream of swords,” Sylvain said, sighing deeply. 

“You’d probably just dream of women,” Felix said, coldly, raising the sword from the sharpening stone and eyeing the edge of it to ensure it was even.

“Heh, I think you might dream of a woman, too,” Sylvain said, grinning foxlike at him.

Felix scowled at him. 

“Hm. Or maybe a woman holding a sword?” Sylvain’s smile was wide. Too wide. Felix’s eyes narrowed at him. If he’d even _thought_ about watching the trial somehow –

“Heh, or maybe you could teach her how to grip a sword, if you know what I mean,” Sylvain said. His wink was entirely insufferable. Felix balanced the pommel of his sword in his hand. It would be an easy thing, to throw the sword at him so it only missed his neck by an inch. Just as a warning.

“All right, all right, don’t look at me that way when you’re armed, seriously,” Sylvain said, rolling into a sitting position. “Man. The Court is going crazy. First time someone’s attempting the fifth trial in forever.”

Felix sheathed the blade and took out the second one. The smaller one. Annette had held this one, arms shaking. And she’d gone boneless in his arms, the second kiss. She’d forgotten all about the crest, all about the trial, and hadn’t even realized, clearly, from her shock at seeing the small thing below her. 

“Trial’ll start soon,” Sylvain said, mercifully pulling Felix out of exactly where he was trying not to go.

“So?” Felix began to grind the edge of this sword down as well.

“You think she can do it?” 

Felix considered this, more seriously than he normally considered any question of Sylvain’s. Annette was strong-willed – strong-willed enough to summon a Fae into her room, to command him with a true name and agree to the trials. Whatever her relationship with that human woman she’d wished away, it was powerful. “Yes.”

“You have a lot of faith in her.” Sylvain observed this without much emotion in his voice. 

Felix snorted. “This is the easiest trial.”

“Giving up what you want most in life?” Sylvain’s eyebrows raised. “I don’t think so. Last guy died – he couldn’t leave whatever he was seeing behind.”

Felix let out a breath through his nose. “What are you trying to say, Sylvain?”

“Nothing, really.” Sylvain shrugged. “I don’t know if I’d win this trial. Maybe that’s what I’m saying.”

“Hardly surprising,” Felix muttered. “You’re insatiable.”

“That’s cold,” Sylvain said, sighing deeply. 

“It’s true,” Felix said, raising the second sword from the grindstone. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Sylvain sighed. “Still. You have to wonder what they see when they’re in there. You know. What she really wants.” 

Felix didn’t respond to this, sheathing the sword. What she really wanted. 

“They say that if you’re a part of their dream, you can see it, though.” Sylvain shrugged. “Maybe she’ll dream of you and you’ll see it? Heh. It’d give you time to teach her how to put that sword to good use.”

“Insatiable,” Felix muttered, walking past Sylvain out of the room. 

And when he returned to his family’s rooms, he found Dimitri had been waiting for him.

No Sylvain, no Ingrid, no courtiers or knights. Not even Dedue. Just Dimitri, seated in one of the armchairs in the sitting room as if he owned the place, leaning slightly to the side and resting his elbow on one of the armrests, palm propping up his head. He had removed his eyepatch, exposing the scar and his eye shot with cataracts. 

“What are you doing here?” Felix had felt his guard rise, saw the reflected glow on the room around him as the newly-polished Aegis reacted to his heart rate picking up. This, whatever this was, was not going to be a pleasant conversation. Dimitri had seen the trial. Knew exactly what had occurred. Probably had a decent idea of what this meant.

Dimitri did not immediately respond, instead choosing to eye him silently. His gaze was heavy, but not exactly angry. 

“This is my house, boar, in case you’ve forgotten,” he said, biting out the words. “You can’t just enter, even if you’re the king.”

“Your maid let me in.” Dimitri was still looking at him, almost searchingly. Or contemplatively.

“She’s not my fucking maid,” Felix said, and then determined the explanation for the servant’s presence would be more troublesome than Dimitri’s assumption. He shut his mouth.

“Annette completed her fourth trial,” Dimitri said.

“Don’t call her that,” Felix shot back, bristling. There was a kind of familiarity to it that pissed him off, especially after Dimitri had been so willing to kick him out of the trials and possibly send Annette to her death.

“It’s her name, isn’t it?” The evenness of his voice was only serving to make Felix more tense. Dimitri was often angry like a rolling storm – furious, destructive, and pitiless. He was not often angry like Sylvain got angry – when he got quiet and cold and precise. 

Felix didn’t have a rational response to that, and so he glared at him. 

“She defeated you,” Dimitri said.

“We fucking established that when she completed the trial,” Felix said, feeling his hands clench into fists. 

Dimitri opened his mouth and then, slowly, shut it. He looked away from Felix, in the direction of the room where Annette was likely within. “You have never been one to listen to me, Felix.”

Felix folded his arms, a familiar band of tension tightening in his back and shoulders.

“But this situation is worrying. The depth of your feelings for the human girl is concerning. She is young in human years, surely but the difference in –”

“Are you lecturing me right now?” Felix felt his blood pressure rise exponentially. “Get the hell out of my house.”

Dimitri, unexpectedly, let out a sigh. His good eye found Felix again. “Felix. I am not here to lecture you. I just –”

“Out,” Felix hissed.

“I am concerned about you –”

_“Out.”_

Dimitri let out another deep sigh, this time running a hand down his face. “Please don’t force me to command you to listen to me.”

Felix’s lips curled. “You wonder why I call you boar, yet you aren’t below using my true name as a threat. Pathetic.”

“That…” Dimitri let go of his breath. “I just worry you are making a poor decision, Felix. That is all. If she completes the fifth trial, and returns to her world... The two of you could meet, surely, but I have never heard of a Fae and a human whose relationship was successful. She will age. She will surely wish to have a human life of her own, which you cannot easily be a part of. And if she were to remain here, she would discard everything she worked so hard for, rescuing her friend.”

Felix’s eyes narrowed at the boar. “Get out.”

“And if she does not complete it…” Dimitri trailed off. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Humans are fragile.” 

“Leave.” Felix heard his voice rising again. It was loud in his ears.

He stood up. “I have intruded, and I apologize.”

“You’re not fucking _sorry,_ ” Felix spat. “Get out.”

“I will take my leave of you,” Dimitri said, as levelly as if Felix had not said anything. 

Felix stood silently as Dimitri got up and walked through his sitting room; the furs wrapped around Dimitri brushed him as he walked out of the house. But before he passed the threshold – “I am only saying these things because you are my oldest friend, Felix. I hope you understand that.”

Without turning around, Felix shut the door with enough force that the hinges creaked.

* * *

Annette was seated in front of an array of food again, eating her way slowly through a crusty piece of bread. The court had dissolved into shouting and accusations as soon as she had been deposited in the throne room, apparently far earlier than anyone had expected her. Ingrid and Sylvain had mostly protected her from any grabbing hands, and when she’d been dismissed, Ingrid had walked her to the rooms and left her at the door. The blonde Fae hadn’t said anything the whole walk to the rooms, and Annette had been lost in thoughts of her own.

Thoughts which were proving rather frustrating. 

Felix had kissed her. He’d helped her in the trials because he’d wanted to. And Sylvain had told her, without lying, that she was his weakness. Annette chewed slowly. How was that true? It didn’t make any sense. None of it made sense. He wasn’t even… human. He was imposing and terrifying, and yet he’d taken the time to force feed her water when she had been delirious with exhaustion after the third trial. He’d given her bandages for her leg and had saved her life so many times. And the kiss had been – nice. Annette felt the flush threatening to creep up her cheeks again and shook herself. 

Sudden fits of attraction weren’t helpful. For surely he’d always been attractive, but it had been the same kind of attraction that you could feel to a distant celebrity or aesthetically pleasing stranger in a coffee shop. Unattainable. 

Annette began to work her way through a small bowl of almonds. Only a few short hours separated her from her last trial. It was not the time to think about any of this. It was the time to focus. 

She was so, so close to saving Mercedes. So close. And when she finally was able to save her, and they were able to leave the Court – Annette could forget all of this. She could forget every single stupid interaction and thought that was being pulled to the forefront of her memory – every single thing. She’d be at school. She’d be away from all of this, and no longer exposed to perpetual danger, and she’d be safe.

Annette felt tears well up in her eyes and choked them down, chewing on another handful of almonds. She was nearly there.

She was going to make it.

* * *

Felix strode into the small dining room Annette had been using to find her sitting at the table, looking down at the wooden surface blankly. Several empty bowls sat around her; she’d clearly finished eating a while ago. It was night, now, and Dimitri had returned to wait in the living room, this time standing, and this time without any lecture. He could hear the shifting of his furs from behind them.

“Trial,” he said shortly.

Annette looked up at him suddenly, as though startled into existence once again. “Oh. Felix. I didn’t hear you. It’s happening already?”

“It’s set up,” he said. 

Annette blinked at him and nodded, and then carefully got up from the stool. “Are you walking me there?”

“No.” Felix shifted slightly. “Follow me.” 

She looked at him. “Okay.”

He walked her to the next room and stood aside. He could see the shock suddenly painting across her features – mouth dropping open, eyes widening. “Oh – um. Your Maje–”

“There is no need for that.” Dimitri turned to her. “The fifth trial is ready. Are you prepared?”

Annette glanced quickly at Felix and then back at Dimitri. “Um. Yes.”

“The trial of temperance is today. You have one task. Eat the fruit that is offered to you.” Dimitri looked as serious as he normally did, with perhaps an additional burden of exhaustion on conjuring the spell around the fruit that Annette would eat. Or perhaps he was feeling the weight of the furious gaze Felix was training on anything other than him.

Felix folded his arms. Annette looked uneasy at the revelation of what the trial entailed but did not speak.

“Your trial begins.” 

Felix tasted the acrid jolt of Dimitri’s magic, and then she was gone.

Dimitri didn’t look at Felix before he lowered himself to a seat on the couch beside him. “By the Gryphon,” he said. “That spell will take it out of you.”

Felix didn’t respond.

Sylvain poked his head in from the entrance. “Oh, damn, did I miss it? Seriously, Your Majesty, trying to make the rest of us miss all the fun?”

“Hardly fun,” Dimitri muttered, rolling his neck and wincing.

Sylvain dropped into an armchair beside Dimitri. 

“Yes, just continue to make yourself at home, both of you,” Felix said snidely, turning away slightly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Sylvain’s head lolled back over the top of the chair. “You going to watch the trial begin?”

Felix could feel the viewing sphere in his pocket, cold and solid.

“There won’t be much to see,” Dimitri said shortly, and stood. “I’ve intruded again, Felix. Thanks for letting me do that outside of the Court.”

Felix did not deign that with a response, instead following Dimitri with his eyes as he exited.

“What, you’re really not going to watch?” Sylvain sighed as soon as the door swung shut behind Dimitri. “Seriously, how am I supposed to find out what happens, then? You _broke_ mine.”

* * *

Annette didn’t even feel her mouth drop open at seeing the king off of the throne, standing imperious and tall in Felix’s rooms. There was no Court. There was no pomp and circumstance. It was just the King of the Fae, in a living room. And he looked serious. And he was looking at her. She glanced at Felix; the man’s expression, despite looking rather furious, didn’t give anything away.

“The trial of temperance is today.” The king looked at her, his eye solemn on her. “You have one task. Eat the fruit that is offered to you.”

Annette tensed. Fae fruit. Was the trial to eat as little fruit as possible, and thus demonstrate self-restraint and temperance? But she had no further time to debate, as –

“Your trial begins,” the king intoned, and raised his hand slightly towards her.

Annette braced herself as the air vibrated intensely. When her ears had ceased buzzing, she opened her eyes to a room that seemed perfectly normal. It was small, about the size of the room she’d been staying in, with wooden walls and a white tiled floor. The only object in the room was a peach that had been placed on the ground. This, clearly, was the fruit that was offered to her.

Kneeling, Annette inspected the peach. It looked perfectly normal. She smelled it; it smelled delicious, as though perfectly ripened. The fuzz on the peach was normal. Everything about it seemed normal, other than its relatively unblemished perfection. All in all, the trial did not seem too arduous, but Annette had her suspicions. 

There was no other choice, however. The trial was to eat. Annette took a bite.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have waited _so_ long to write this. Like. So long. Was this whole story an excuse to write this chapter? 100%. Do I regret it? 0%.
> 
> Anyways, if at first you don’t enjoy, keep, keep reading…
> 
> _“I will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment,  
>  and as a secret compartment loves a secret,  
> and as a secret loves to make people gasp…  
> I will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened  
> and all the secrets have gone gasping into the world.”_  
> – Lemony Snicket, _The Beatrice Letters_

Summer was over, and just like that, a new semester began. 

Annette had moved in all her belongings to her tiny single room in an apartment complex nearby her university, aided by both parents (and while listening to her father warn her about twenty times to never open the door to _anyone_ because she was a young woman living alone, and did she remember every single self-defense technique he’d ever taught her when he’d forced her to take his self-defense school’s lessons her whole life?). Her mother had wept (just slightly, and mostly into her father’s shoulder) as they left. They’d driven off to Fhirdiad, with Annette waving them goodbye. And then the semester began in earnest.

As school started, Annette had thrown herself at her various friends who she’d seen in class, or in between classes, and had done her best to find them for lunches and dinners. She’d studied with Lysithea in the library. She’d gone to class with Ashe, one of her father’s students who was her year at university. She’d made appearances at a few parties, mostly at the urging of Claude, who never stopped hounding her about such things; she had danced her heart out and sung loud (and unfortunately very tipsy) karaoke with a guy she barely knew in the business program, some redhead called Ferdinand. She’d given some impromptu tutoring sessions to Caspar, one of Ashe’s close friends, and had spent hours working her part-time job in the library.

Eventually, her father had called her and told her that he was going to make an appearance in Garreg Mach in order to aid an old friend on the university staff, and told her he would take her out to lunch. Annette had gone to her morning seminar, ducked into one of the small coffeeshops on campus, ordered herself a drink for the road, and had made to set out to the restaurant he’d chosen. In fact, Annette had her phone out and was texting her father that she would be there in ten minutes when she had tripped.

Tripping was, unfortunately, too normal of an occurrence for Annette. The fact that she was holding a large iced coffee in a crowded university coffeeshop _while_ she tripped was not as normal.

“Shit!” the man directly in front of her said, jumping, as her freezing cold coffee flew straight from the cup she was holding across the small of his back. Ice cubes clinked as they hit the floor.

“Oh, Goddess, I am so, so, so, _so_ sorry!” Annette cried, horrified. 

The man in front of her turned slightly, and she froze. Oh. He was cute, with long, black hair and eyes so light brown eyes as to be almost reddish in the light, and she’d just spilled coffee all over him, and she was _such a mess._ His eyes widened slightly when he met hers, mouth opening just slightly. And then his expression darkened a tad when his eyes found her half-raised, now mostly empty to-go cup. Such a mess. She couldn’t even blame him for his irritation. Who wouldn’t be angry, when she’d spilled coffee literally all over him?

“I’m so, so, so sorry,” she said, wincing and hurrying to grab napkins. She was sure she was red by the time she had run back to him and handed him a huge stack of them. The man took them, expression unreadable. Annette winced again, painfully. He was so cute. And she was such an _idiot._ “Goddess. I’m so sorry.”

The man looked at her, napkins still crumpled in his hand. His friend, a taller redhead, was laughing. “Oh man, this is good...”

Annette winced. “I’m so sorry! Um. I can buy you coffee?” When the man didn’t immediately respond, she kept talking. “I know that doesn’t fix it. Or, um, I’ll pay for a laundromat? Or dry cleaning?”

The dark-haired man was clearly unhappy still, his scowl deepening as he surveyed her. Annette flushed. Finally, he turned away and began shoving the napkins against his back, the gesture made difficult by the location of the coffee stain.

“He drinks black coffee. No sugar.” The redhead stepped forward slightly and winked at her, apparently finally done laughing. 

“Oh. Okay.” Annette looked at the dark-haired man. “Do you want coffee? I’m happy to -”

He looked away from her. “I _have_ a coffee right now. I don’t need another.” 

Annette looked at his hands. He was, indeed, carrying a small to-go cup in the hand that wasn’t now holding half-sodden napkins. “Oh.”

“We’re leaving, Sylvain,” the man said abruptly to his friend, and walked out of the small coffee shop, the back of his shirt streaked with a stain. Annette grimaced. Goddess. She was such a clumsy mess. And coffee was hard to get out of clothing.

“Hey, don’t look so upset.” His friend was still grinning widely at her; for some reason, he hadn’t followed the man out of the shop. “Here. Let me give you his number and you can buy him coffee another time.”

Annette looked at his friend through the glass door, raising her eyebrows. “Um. I’m not sure he looks that interested in –”

“Trust me,” the redhead said, winking at her again when she met his gaze. “Give me your phone?”

Annette blinked at him. “Uh. Really? I’m not sure if –”

“Aw, come on,” the redhead said, shaking his head slightly at her. “You still don’t trust me?”

Annette’s brow furrowed at his word choice, but she handed over her phone anyways after pulling up the ‘new contact’ screen. The redhead typed away for a second and then handed her phone back.

“Just trust me. Felix’ll say yes.” He grinned at her and walked out the door, where his friend was impatiently frowning at him from through the glass.

Annette surveyed the phone contact. Felix Fraldarius. Huh. And then she checked the time. She was late to meet her father. “Crap!”

Minutes later, she arrived, panting, at the small restaurant she’d agreed to meet her father at, now eighteen minutes late. She shoved open the door, drained the remainder of her iced coffee that she hadn’t spilled on the guy from the coffeeshop, and hurried up to the table where he was seated.

“Father,” she said quickly, still out of breath, “I’m so sorry, I –”

“Lost track of time?” her father asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, I tripped,” Annette said, dropping into the seat opposite him, still panting, “and then I had to apologize, and it was a whole mess, and anyways I’m so sorry.”

Her father sighed. “I thought taking my self-defense classes would help you with your lack of coordination.”

“Well.” Annette flushed, and not just because she’d just sprinted to the restaurant while wearing her backpack full of textbooks. “I tried.”

“I see.” Her father acknowledged it with a slight nod. 

“Anyways,” Annette said, “um, I know you were in town to see one of the professors! How was that?”

“It was fine.” Her father tilted his head slightly. “Your mother told me you are still taking classes with one of my students.”

“Yes! Ashe and I are taking our mandatory religion class together. My friend Lysithea is in it, too.” Garreg Mach University had once been a grand cathedral, and the university required at least one religious-oriented class of each of its students. Annette picked up the menu and began to survey it. “Ooh, Father, can I get dessert?”

His expression was dour. “Annette. We haven’t even ordered food yet.”

“But it would be nice, right?” Annette grinned. “Please?”

Her father sighed again, but Annette knew his long-suffering expression meant he had caved in. He picked up his menu, hiding his face. “As you wish.”

“Yay!” Annette grinned. “Oh, good, I’ve heard the sweet cream pastries are so good here.”

After the lunch, and discussing her life and classwork with her father, she had finished up her classes for the day and then headed home. Garreg Mach wasn’t a huge campus, but Annette’s walk to her apartment was long, so she often talked on the phone with friends. She was, of course, on the phone when the new name in her phone came up again.

“You mean you spilled coffee all over some random guy?” Hilda’s voice was wryly amused. “Oh my Goddess, Annette, why am I not surprised?”

Annette grimaced again. “Stop. I already feel terrible!”

“Well, knowing you, you apologized for like twenty minutes. I’m sure it’s fine.” Hilda sighed through the phone line. “I mean, honestly it’s kind of a miracle something like this hasn’t happened before.”

“I’m not that bad,” Annette said, fully aware that she was. “I mean, I told him and his friend I’d buy him coffee or something to make up for it and everything!”

“What?” She could almost hear Hilda sit up. “Wait. Annette, did you agree to a _date_ with the guy?”

“It’s not really a date.” Annette cleared her throat. “I mean, he didn’t seem interested, really. It’s just coffee. It was kind of weird, actually. It was his friend who gave me his number –”

“Wait, let me get this straight.” Hilda giggled. “You spilled coffee on this guy and his friend now wants to go on a date with you?”

“No, he gave me the guy I spilled coffee on’s number.” Annette paused. “I think.”

“Annette! What if he’s some psycho who’s trying to set you up with a serial killer?” Annette could hear through the speaker in her ear the clicking noises of Hilda’s perpetually manicured nails on a keyboard. “Do you have his _name,_ even?”

“Not the friend’s. But the name he put in my phone is, um, Felix Fraldarius.”

Annette heard the audible gasp. “Oh, Annette.”

“What!” Annette felt the sudden thrill of horror shoot up her spine. What if Hilda did know this guy, and he was some kind of terrible – 

“No way. Like, kind of slim grumpy black-haired guy?” Hilda’s nails were clicking wildly on her phone’s surface; Annette began to suspect that she might be on speakerphone. “Okay, like this guy?” 

Annette felt her phone vibrate against her ear and immediately clicked on the incoming message from Hilda. A photograph of the man from the coffeeshop stared back at her, this time in what looked like athletic clothing. Annette took exactly half a second to register that, yes, he was very attractive in this photo as well, before remembering herself.

She quickly shoved the phone against the side of her face again. “That’s him. You know him?”

“Okay, so I know one of his friends, really.” Hilda hummed. “Well, really, I sort of slept with one of his friends a few times. Redhead. Name is Sylvain. Not your type, Annette, don’t mess with him.”

“His friend had red hair. In the coffeeshop.” Annette was trying to process all this information but was finding it difficult. “You _slept_ with him?”

“Don’t say it like you’re _judging_ me, he’s cute. Terrible person, though. So you’re not allowed to go near him, okay?”

“I’m – that’s not a problem,” Annette said, shaking her head slightly. “Wait, so. We’ve determined he’s not a serial killer, right? So… I should be good.”

“ _Oh._ ” Annette could hear the slow smile on Hilda’s face. “You actually want to go get a coffee with this guy, don’t you?”

“W-Well,” Annette spluttered for a second. “Well, so what? Should I not try to repay him for covering his back in iced coffee?”

“Uh huh.” She knew Hilda was rolling her eyes. “Sure.”

“Okay, so he _was_ cute, so sue me, Hilda!” Annette huffed at her phone. “I haven’t been on a date in a while, okay?”

“Oh, I think it’s a good idea. The guy is apparently kind of abrasive, though. Just a heads up.”

Annette paused. “Like, he’s rude?”

“Yeah. He’s super serious about, like, _fencing,_ so he’s never had time for girls, according to Sylvain.” The tone made it obvious just how stupid Hilda found that. “You know, he’s a ‘while you were partying, I studied the blade’ kind of person.”

“Fencing?” Annette blinked. 

“He’s on our fencing team. I didn’t even know we had one, but there you go.” 

“Hold on. He goes to Garreg Mach?” Annette’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, he’s _our year,_ Annette.” Hilda sighed loudly. “Seriously. You need to stop studying all the time with Lysithea and get out more.”

“Studying with Lysithea really helps my grades,” Annette said. “Actually, you should probably join us sometime, Hilda, I heard from Claude that your brother was getting on your case –”

“Nooo way, this conversation is over,” Hilda said loudly, “I’m hanging up, but tell me how your date goes, okay?”

Hilda was true to her word, and Annette only heard a dial tone beeping in her ear. She lowered her phone and clicked on her new contact. An abrasive fencer. 

**4:38 PM – Annette:** Hi! I’m the girl who spilled coffee on you today (I am SO sorry about that again). Anyways your friend gave me your number so if you’re interested in letting me get you coffee sometime to repay you, let me know! :)  
**9:32 PM – Felix:** That’s fine  
**9:35 PM – Annette:** Okay! What time would be good for you?  
**9:36 PM – Felix:** Afternoons probably  
**9:39 PM – Annette:** I can do that! Um lets do the same coffeeshop then? At like 2pm? Does thursday work for you?  
**9:41 PM – Felix:** that’s fine. So do you have a name or am I supposed to save this number as ‘girl who spilled coffee on me’  
**9:41 PM – Annette:** oh sorry, I’m Annette!

Annette spent the remainder of that night stalking his every social media account. He rarely posted on anything; the majority of any mention of him online came from the Garreg Mach University fencing account, which were apparently run by a terrifying professor named Jeritza and featured a series of students with sabers in hand and various arrays of white clothing on. There also were a few photos on his accounts of him, a blonde girl, a blonde guy, and the redhead she’d met in the coffeeshop. Most of them were terrible selfies taken by the redhead in which Felix looked murderous to be included in.

And finally, she met the man in person again. She’d shown up to the coffeeshop, flushed and slightly nervous, only to see him standing outside of it, looking like he was hardly willing to have arrived at all. 

“Hey!” she said, grinning widely to mask any residual nervousness. “Um, thanks for waiting.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re not late,” he said flatly, pushing off of the wall. 

“Right.” Annette nodded slowly. “So, how was your day?”

“Fine.” He surveyed her slightly – it wasn’t rude, exactly. It seemed more slightly surprised, more as though he could not entirely believe she had arrived.

“Well. Mine was pretty good, too.” Annette cleared her throat, pushing open the glass door with one hand. “You like your coffee black, right?”

“Yes.” He followed her through the door. There was a short line in front of them – mostly what looked like other university students, along with what might have been some businesspeople from the small town around the university. “I don’t like sweet things.”

“What?” Annette’s mouth dropped open. “Like. At all? No cake? No cookies?”

“No.” He eyed her. “I guess you like them, though.”

Annette nodded immediately. “Well, obviously! What’s the point in drinking coffee if it’s unsweetened?”

“It wakes you up.” Felix folded his arms. They were facing each other in the queue. 

“Well, that’s fair, I guess.” Annette glanced at the boards advertising what was for sale. A short, awkward silence followed. “So! What do you study at Garreg Mach?”

“History.” 

The choice was so unexpected that Annette blinked at him. “Really? Like, what kind of history?”

Felix cleared his throat. “Military history.” 

Annette grinned. “Oh, cool! My father is really into that stuff, too. He made me watch all these military history documentaries when I was growing up. Is there a particular time period you study?”

“Late 1100s.” Felix’s expression had brightened slightly, although the word ‘brighten’ wasn’t quite correct, given how serious he still looked. “Mostly tactics and military weaponry used in the war from 1180-1185.”

“Wow.” Annette smiled widely at him. “Are you interested in teaching one day?”

Felix tilted his head. “Maybe.” 

“That’s what I want to do, at least,” Annette said. “I’m majoring in education, so.”

“Huh.” Felix raised an eyebrow. “So you want to deal with a bunch of screaming kids?”

“I think I’d like to be a high school teacher, actually. So I guess I want to deal with a bunch of screaming teenagers.” Annette grinned slyly.

Felix snorted. “Worse.”

“Sounds like you shouldn’t teach, then,” Annette said, nudging him slightly. He stiffened under her touch and she quickly withdrew, glancing up at him only to see him sort of wide-eyed, looking at her. “Uh – sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He blinked, looked directly before him, something like surprise on his features still. They were near the front of the line. “You should order.”

“Oh, right.” Annette faced the cashier and ordered quickly, happy to have something to do. Because he had reacted so weirdly. Did he think it wasn’t a date? Or did he just not like people touching him? It was kind of clear it was sort of a date, right? Not like a serious, let-me-take-you-to-a-fancy-restaurant date, but getting coffee was kind of a date. (Wasn’t it? It definitely was.)

After ordering, they walked over to the other half of the bar. Annette cleared her throat, trying to find something to fill the silence. “So, what do you do outside of classes? Are you a part of any clubs or anything?”

“I fence.” Felix smiled slightly. Annette felt her mouth spread into a smile, as well – for he looked so much better, smiling. Even more attractive. “It takes up most of my time.”

“I didn’t know we had a fencing team,” she said. “Is it true there are different swords? Which one do you use?”

Felix actually did brighten this time, straightening slightly and beginning to speak rather eloquently on the topic until – and for a while after – their coffees (his black, and hers vanilla-flavored) arrived. Annette watched him talk and thought to herself that she could get used to seeing the small changes in his expressions, the way he gestured to explain the various ways the swords could be best used. There was something almost familiar about it. Something easy in the way the conversation began to run.

He’d listened to her when she went on a tangent about her family, and her father’s business, explaining to him how her father taught fencing, although to younger children. They had agreed that most people in the university spent too much time partying and not enough working hard (“the point of a university is to learn,” Annette had said, and Felix had nodded along with her. “I mean, I like partying too, but that’s not our goal here!”). She had coaxed the date of his next fencing tournament out of him, and although he hadn’t invited her, he had told her when and where it was.

It had been a good date, Annette thought, and when they’d said goodbye because he apparently had class, she had felt his eyes following her when she’d walked away. She grinned to herself. He was cute. And maybe a bit abrasive like Hilda had said, but really, the only odd part of the conversation was when he’d asked her if she had a friend called Mercedes, and she had paused in confusion (“Who?”) and he had shaken his head and carried on the conversation (“My mistake”). And then, still walking, she checked her phone.

 **2:38 PM – Claude:** party at my place on Saturday, hilda says you are invited  
**2:39 PM – Claude:** do NOT tell lorenz, please spare all of us

 **2:21 PM – Hilda:** OMG HOW IS YOUR DATE GOING  
**2:40 PM – Hilda:** it is now right??  
**2:41 PM – Hilda:** SPILL  
**2:42 PM – Hilda:** also youre coming to claudes party ok???

 **3:03 PM – Ashe:** Hey, are you going to that thing Claude is throwing?

Annette sighed. She had an exam on Monday for that religion class she was taking. She really didn’t have time to go to a party. And, even more than that, she really didn’t want Claude to laugh about how she’d sung karaoke loudly with a complete stranger at the last party she’d been to. But she had friends to respond to.

 **3:17 PM – Annette:** date was good! :)  
**3:17 PM – Hilda:** good like 10/10 would bang or good like it was only fine  
**3:17 PM – Annette:** probably more the first one? but it was only the first date so idk  
**3:18 PM – Hilda:** O M G get it  
**3:18 PM – Hilda:** did you kiss him? what base are we at  
**3:19 PM – Annette:** no  
**3:20 PM – Annette:** actually he was kind of weird about touching for some reason? but he’s cute! and not super rude like you said  
**3:20 PM – Hilda:** ok but who could be rude you are sunshine itself  
**3:21 PM – Hilda:** also, what??? doesn’t want to touch you???  
**3:24 PM – Hilda:** are you going out again?? Lmk I will get u the best outfit and trust me he will NOT be weird abt touching u when I’m done ;) no shattering my eyeshadow palette this time tho please  
**3:25 PM – Annette:** hahaha I’ll let you know if we go out  
**3:26 PM – Annette:** also I am still really sorry about that eek

 **3:28 PM – Annette:** hey ashe! I might be…? We have our exam Monday though and I was going to study the whole weekend  
**3:29 PM – Ashe:** Haha, somehow that’s exactly what I thought you’d say

 **3:42 PM – Annette:** haha thanks for the invite Claude  
**4:29 PM – Claude:** yeah yeah, couldn’t have miss outsider missing out on the fun  
**4:45 PM – Annette:** rude!! I am not an outsider!  
**4:45 PM – Annette:** just because I care about studying and don’t go to every single party does not make me an outsider, claude!!  
**5:26 PM – Claude:** ;)

And thus, it was with a sense of indignancy at being labeled an outsider that Annette arrived at Claude’s party that next Saturday. He had a pretty large apartment to himself, although Hilda occasionally lived there when she got ‘bored of her own place.’ Annette had never really been able to figure out what their relationship was, outside of ‘somewhat worryingly codependent,’ but they were both her friends, and Claude often made an effort to invite her to things despite the fact that Annette normally turned him down.

The door was unlocked, so Annette saw herself in, and was greeted with a sudden wave of noise and chatter and yelling, a mass of people thronging every square foot of the space. She squeezed through the crowd until she saw the first person she recognized – Ashe, who was standing with a man that was tall enough to be a skyscraper in comparison to her.

“Ashe!” she said, a bit breathless from the journey. 

“Oh! Annette, you came!” Ashe grinned at her. She glanced at the man next to him hesitantly, and then back at Ashe. The question in her eyes must have been obvious. “Oh, haven’t you met Dedue? He’s also a culinary arts major.”

“Oh, hi,” Annette said, smiling up at the giant. “I’m Annette.”

The man inclined his head politely. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too!” Annette grinned and was about to ask about his specialization when Ashe leaned over to her.

“Hilda was looking for you, I think,” Ashe said. “Uh, she said it was important?”

“Oh boy.” Annette sighed. “Okay. Where was she last?”

“Annette!” Hilda’s voice cut through the crowd with surprising efficiency, right on cue. “Oh my Goddess, come _here!”_

And then Hilda had a grip on her and was pulling her through the crowd in the direction of a small, sticky table beset with alcohol, all the while talking quickly in Annette’s ear. “ _Oh_ my Goddess, okay, so remember the guy you went on a date with?”

“He didn’t text me, if that’s what you’re asking,” Annette said. She’d been a bit disappointed to not have heard from Felix that week, but she had been busy with school and work and life, and it had only been a first date. If she was ghosted, it was annoying, but she was a grown adult. And it was fine. 

“What?” Hilda actually stopped and twirled Annette around so they were facing each other. “Seriously? What an asshole.”

“It’s okay,” Annette said, shrugging. “It happens.”

“No, it _doesn’t,_ ” Hilda said, beginning to drag her into step alongside her again, “because _I_ heard from _Sylvain_ that he’s into you, and _also_ he’s here.”

Annette paused. “Wait, what?”

“So, you need to go chat him up, because he’s clearly an idiot. And also, why are you just wearing normal clothes?” Hilda sighed. “Oh, Annette. Come on. You could be so cute with my wardrobe. Just wait a second, I have things in Claude’s room I can lend you.”

“I don’t need clothes!” Annette said, pushing Hilda’s hands away from her. “I – wait, why would you think he’s actually interested? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, _none_ of this makes sense, actually,” Hilda said, nodding as though this statement resolved the issue, “but I mean, we did establish he’s kind of an ass but you’re into that, didn’t we?”

“I am not into guys who _ignore_ me,” Annette said, indignancy coming back full force. “And also, he wasn’t an ass on the date, he was nice enough.”

“Goddess help us, he was nice,” Hilda said, sighing. “What is the world coming to?”

“What?” Annette asked, truly confused now.

“Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Just – he’s over there, I think.” Hilda pointed to one of the further reaches of Claude’s apartment.

“Why are you so certain he’s – I mean, he didn’t text me at all,” Annette said, shaking her head. “I think that friend of his might just be screwing with me.”

“Hey, Miss Outsider.” Annette turned quickly to see Claude’s telltale, catlike grin, hovering over the alcohol-laden table. “Who’s screwing with you?”

“It’s nothing.” Annette huffed. “Also, please, stop calling me that.”

“She’s trying to go talk to Felix, but she doesn’t believe that he’s into her,” Hilda explained, betraying Annette’s trust with shocking efficiency.

“Hilda!” Annette squeaked.

“Anything I know, he knows, Annette,” Hilda said, completely unconcerned.

“So what I’m hearing is you need liquid courage,” Claude said, grinning the same highly amused smile. “Here, let me make you something.”

“I don’t need anything, Claude,” Annette said, but Claude was already dumping something into a cup for her. He held out the mug to her. A beautiful decal of a hilly field with a small forest in the distance stared back at her, emblazoned with the words, ‘The Wild Hunt’.

“This is a washed mug, right?” Annette said, raising her eyebrows at them.

“Obviously.” Claude rolled his eyes. “Go on, run along now, Miss Outsider.”

“Ugh.” Annette took the mug with a frown. “Whatever. I cannot believe you two.”

“Tell me if he’s a good kisser,” Hilda said, eyes wide. “Claude and I have a bet going.”

“Twenty gold says he doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Claude said, nodding seriously.

“I can’t _believe you guys,_ ” Annette squeaked, flushing dark red and quickly turning around. She walked as fast as she could through the crowd, hearing their laughter just barely over the loud throb of the bass of whatever music Claude was playing in the background.

She threaded through another crush of people and paused, searching the crowd. Hesitantly, she took a sip of what Claude had offered her. It was apparently mostly orange juice, because she couldn’t taste liquor (although she had no doubt he’d included plenty). Annette took a step around a tall, skinny dark-haired boy and a pale-haired girl and finally saw the person she was looking for. 

“Goddess,” she said, mostly into her mug, quickly ducking behind the pair again. Felix was indeed at the party, accompanied by a blonde girl. Were they together? Maybe that annoying redheaded guy was really just messing with her. Hilda _had_ said he was a terrible person. 

And then the pair she was hiding behind moved slightly and she made sudden, terrible eye contact with the blonde girl standing beside Felix. The blonde girl’s eyes widened. Annette felt the flush race across her cheeks, suddenly incredibly grateful for the dark lit room and the weird flashing colors, which would probably sufficiently hide her red face. And then the blonde girl said something quickly to Felix and hurried away, and he looked up, meeting Annette’s eyes. 

“Crap,” she said, barely realizing she spoke aloud until the white-haired girl just before her raised her eyebrows at her. Annette grimaced uncomfortably at the woman and hurried over to Felix, who turned slightly to meet her.

“Uh, hey,” she said, trying for a smile. 

He nodded at her. “Hey.”

“So.” Annette cleared her throat. “Uh, I didn’t realize you’d be here. How do you know Claude?”

“I don’t.” Felix folded his arms. “Or I barely do.”

“Got it.” Annette paused, but Felix apparently wasn’t going to elaborate. “I didn’t think you’d be one for parties.”

“I’m not.” Felix shifted slightly. “I thought you said you weren’t either.”

“Well, I like to dance and stuff, but when the semester starts, I try to study more.” Annette grimaced again. “I kind of got guilt-tripped into this one. Claude invites me to a bunch of stuff and I almost never say yes, so.”

“I see.” Felix shifted.

“Yeah.” Annette cleared her throat again. He was really making no effort to continue the conversation. There was _no way_ he was interested, but she had come all the way over here, and she wasn’t about to just leave after a half a minute of conversation. “So. What made you come here, then? If you didn’t want to?”

“Sylvain.” Felix rolled his eyes. “He’s always fucking griping at me about not getting out.”

Annette nodded. “I totally understand. Claude literally started calling me ‘outsider,’ which is so rude, right?”

Felix’s eyes narrowed. “How long have you known Claude?”

“I’ve known him about two years, I think.” Annette tilted her head slightly. “He heard me singing karaoke once and –”

She broke off, suddenly embarrassed. Felix frowned. “And what?”

“Well, I was singing something stupid, and anyways, it doesn’t matter!” Annette flushed quickly. Claude had caught her loudly singing karaoke in their first year at university, when she’d had way too much to drink and was belting some made-up song. She frantically searched for another conversation topic. “Uh, anyways, how – how do you know your friend? Sylvain?”

Felix snorted. “We grew up together. I’ve known him too long.”

“I see.” Annette nodded slowly, feeling that she had reached territory that verged on impolite to ask more about. Felix looked away, at the wall beside them.

She stood before him for almost a full minute, as the silence became more and more pressing and uncomfortable, despite the loud music around them, but Felix didn’t say anything else. Finally, she huffed, attempting to fold her arms before realizing she was still holding her alcohol-filled mug. “Okay, so, I came over here to chat you up, but you’re definitely not interested, so. I’ll go.”

Felix froze. She saw his eyes widen. “You what?”

“Ugh, don’t worry about it,” Annette said, turning around. “Just - Don’t blame a girl for trying.”

“Wait.” He grabbed her arm suddenly. “Hold on.”

“What?” Annette said, feeling her cheeks redden in shame and frustration, turning quickly.

“You were –” Felix paused another moment, apparently processing this. “You wanted to…”

“I asked you on a _date,_ and I think it went well,” Annette said, huffing slightly. Was this guy actually an idiot? “Isn’t it obvious why I came over here?”

Felix blinked at her. “You said you were repaying me for spilling coffee on me.”

“Are you seriously that oblivious?” Annette asked, eyebrows turning upwards. “I didn’t just… pay for coffee and leave, or something. We talked for like an hour! How is that not a date?”

Felix’s mouth had dropped open, just slightly. He closed it. 

“And then you didn’t text me for like a week,” Annette said, because now that she had started she couldn’t stop, “and honestly, like, I thought it went well, but maybe you didn’t agree, but apparently you just had no idea it was a date, but –”

“Stop babbling for a second,” Felix said, cutting her off neatly. “I’ll go out with you.”

It was Annette’s turn to pause for a second, her mouth open. “Um. Really?”

“Yes.” Felix sighed. “I – Just – You pick what you want to do. I’ll take you.”

Annette blinked at him. “You – You better not be doing this because you feel bad.”

Felix scowled at her. “Like hell I would do it because I _felt bad._ Just say yes or no.”

“Oh.” Annette blinked at him again, felt her mouth spread slowly into a smile. “Oh. Um. Yes. Let’s do it, then.”

They had gone to play paintball, because she thought he’d enjoy himself and because Annette prided herself on being a fairly decent shot. They’d gone into the small wooded arena, and while she had been proud to hit him at least four times, he was a frustratingly excellent shot and was predictably incredibly competitive. She had been hit about six or seven times, splattered in paint of all colors, before she cried foul and tried to tackle him into one of the hay bales the paintball company had set around the area. He’d dropped the gun and the hay bale had toppled over slightly and caved inwards and then their faces had been almost touching. He’d reached up to her face and slipped a piece of hay out of her bangs, so gently that Annette could almost believe she’d hit her head and hallucinated it. 

They had run into each other in one of the humanities buildings at Garreg Mach, and she had grinned almost instinctually at seeing him, and he’d been elbowed (very obviously) by his friend Sylvain, and he had gone over to say hello, even though she got the feeling he hated pleasantries – 

Which had led to another date, because Annette had insisted they get pastries at this bakery she really liked, and she had forced Felix to try a bite of hers, which had led to powdered sugar all over his face, and she had tried to wipe it off with her fingers and instead he had kissed her. (She had texted Hilda and said that whoever had bet Felix had no idea what he was doing had lost twenty gold) –

Which had led to another date, because she had seen him in the library and sat down next to him and he had told her flatly that she was free on Saturday because they had somewhere to be. She’d cancelled her plans with Ashe and had shown up at one of the very nice dormitories on campus where he lived, and he had walked with her to a karaoke bar, and had told her pointblank that he absolutely refused to sing anything but he’d heard she enjoyed it, so she better enjoy herself, and the whole time she’d sung (even when not holding the microphone) his eyes had been on her – 

Which had led to another date, and she had shown up at his room again because he’d texted her that she had to be free on Friday because they had somewhere to be again. Except this time he had pulled her into the room instead of stepping outside of it, and left marks on her neck that Hilda (and a very red Ashe) had (in _very_ different tones) remarked on – 

Which had led to a finally official relationship.

 **7:25 PM – Annette:** hey are we dating  
**7:32 PM – Felix:** What  
**7:34 PM – Annette:** like do you want to be my boyfriend or?  
**7:35 PM – Felix:** Yes  
**7:37 PM – Annette:** so like yes to the wanting to be my boyfriend right?? not to the or???  
**7:38 PM – Felix:** Are you seriously asking that  
**7:39 PM – Annette:** so like… we’re dating  
**7:39 PM – Felix:** What are you expecting flowers or something?  
**7:40 PM – Annette:** …might be nice? :)  
**7:42 PM – Felix:** Technically you asked me. So if anyone gets flowers it should be me  
**7:43 PM – Annette:** ok! so like are you a roses guy or lilacs or lilies or what are we thinking  
**7:44 PM – Felix:** …do NOT send me flowers  
**7:45 PM – Felix:** I will get you the damn roses or whatever the hell you want. Sylvain will not stop laughing if you send me flowers so don’t even think about it  
**7:46 PM – Annette:** :)  
**7:46 PM – Annette:** also so like are you coming over or?  
**7:47 PM – Felix:** Yes

He had texted her that his tournament was the next weekend, offhandedly, without any invitation. She had shown up, clutching hot chocolate and sitting in an auditorium that was mostly full of families and other universities’ students. Felix had met her eyes and grinned – a full smile, so rare on him. He’d won his bouts, or sparring matches, or whatever they were called (she hadn’t been sure – the judges weren’t well connected to the sound system), and when the whole tournament had ended he’d walked right up to her, pulled her out of the auditorium for some unknown reason, and kissed her on the mouth in front of about two dozen complete strangers exiting the building, causing Annette to flush so deeply she dropped her now mostly empty travel mug on the ground.

He had met her parents, at her unwavering urging. They’d made the drive up to Fhirdiad and were greeted by her mother, flushed with what Annette expected was nerves. Or perhaps Annette only thought they were nerves because she herself was harboring about thirty butterflies in her own stomach. “Annette, you’re home! And this must be –”

“Felix,” he supplied, and if it was somewhat stiff, her mother didn’t show that she’d noticed. 

“So nice to meet you. Come in, please, both of you.” Her mother had hurried inside, smiling at Annette as she went. About three of the thirty butterflies flitted away.

But the worst hurdle had, of course, been –

“Annette.” Her father cleared his throat at her, and then eyed Felix. 

Annette had grinned widely to diffuse the quickly-gathering tension. “Father, this is Felix. Felix, this is my father – um, and you met my mother, of course.”

Felix nodded at her father. Her father did not move, eyeing him with the terrifying gaze Annette recognized from years of her father educating her about dangerous people who she needed to use self-defense against. Felix, to his credit, met this gaze flatly. 

“I see.” Her father’s eyes narrowed.

“Father runs a self-defense studio,” Annette said, brightly, threading her arm around Felix’s arm and attempting to remain completely oblivious to the scowl darkening her father’s face. “But he’s taught some fencing and swordplay before as well.”

Felix paused. “Interesting.”

Sensing that Felix was not going to explain nor help her cause, Annette grinned at her father especially pleadingly. “Felix is on the fencing team at Garreg Mach, Father! I went to one of his tournaments a few weeks ago and he was really good. He won all of the matches.”

“Hm.” Her father nodded, slowly. “Fencing is an admirable sport.” 

Felix smiled slightly, and Annette felt herself heave a sigh, leaning slightly on Felix as the butterflies scattered. “I agree.”

They’d eaten, and talked (or, really, Annette and her mother had mostly carried the conversation, with occasional remarks from Felix, and even less frequent remarks from her father). And as they’d turned to go at the end of the night, her mother had caught her shoulder and whispered, “I think your father approves.” Annette had grinned the whole ride home.

And one day, one of their late nights working together, in which Annette had been sprawled on his bed and Felix himself, forcing herself to read yet another long article about education theory, she’d looked up from his lap to see him frowning at the book he was reading, and something about it had just been –

“I love you, you know,” Annette said, without preamble. Felix had frozen. She had felt it as well as seen it, felt his muscles tense. 

“That’s…” he said. He had swallowed.

Annette raised her hand and traced her fingers down his face. He was flushing. Red followed her fingertips as she touched him. 

“I just felt like telling you,” she said. 

He cleared his throat. “I… see.”

Annette continued tracing the line of his face down his neck, then up to his ear. A muscle in Felix’s jaw worked. Finally, she was rewarded with him looking down at her. And his eyes on hers were hot.

Annette grinned up at him. Felix set down his book on the bedspread beside him, looking at her. Annette raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you have something to say back?”

Felix slipped the article she was reading from her hands and looped an arm around her neck, pulling her upwards. The second before their lips met, he grumbled, “You know already. And don’t act so smug about it.”

They had applied for jobs together. Annette had panicked widely about where she wanted to teach, and what age, and if she wanted to specialize, in what subject. (And panicked about whether anyone would hire her, and what if the children hated her, and what if she was a terrible teacher.) Felix had flatly told her to apply to what she liked because she was good at what she did, and she was wasting her time worrying.

She had gotten a job teaching at her old high school – the Fhirdiad Academy. She had shrieked in Felix’s ear when she had found out, and he had actually picked her up in the hug and spun her around and she had wept into his shirt. He told her the next month that he’d found some position in Fhirdiad, and had told her that if she didn’t feel like living with her parents, maybe they could split rent. Because it would be convenient. (“Convenient?” Annette had said, raising her eyebrows. Felix had coughed, flushing. “I mean, splitting rent –” “You just want to live with me,” she’d told him. “Don’t you?” And Felix had flushed slightly. “Shut up. Do you want to or not?”)

They had graduated. Annette had beamed in all of their graduation photos.

And they moved to Fhirdiad. They’d loved that tiny little apartment, even with its terrible heating in the winter, which made them wear all their clothes to bed and huddle under three duvets and four blankets. They stayed there until necessity (the heater finally broke after years of half-heartedly surviving) had kicked them out to a nicer apartment further from her work and his. They had worked, and slept, and laughed, and argued, and eaten, and gone out for dinner and drinks and – and she had been happy. 

Four years after graduation, Felix had finally given her a ring. The silver metal crest on it had been oddly familiar. Official. (“Family crest,” he said. “If you want some diamond thing, we can replace it.” Annette had shaken her head. “This… I really like it.” She had rubbed her thumb over it, unsure where she had seen it before. Probably something she’d seen of Felix’s before. Felix had grinned, oddly snide. “Don’t drop it.”) They had gotten married, in a quiet ceremony that her mother had wept through and friends had grinned through.

She was promoted to head of her department at the Academy. Felix had decided to help out with her father’s business, teaching children how to fence. Years slipped away, in quiet cycles of the seasons. It was peaceful. She was content – fulfilled in her career, in love with her husband, thrilled to be so close with her family. Annette was well and truly happy. 

And time slipped –

And Annette was a schoolgirl again, grinning with her friends as they chattered about the boys they liked. Hilda was rolling her eyes, because this weird blue-haired kid she was into just would not take a hint, and Marianne was blushing every time someone said the word ‘like,’ and Lysithea was firmly rolling her eyes at every single insinuation that she might not be immune to the charms of silly crushes.

Annette had a school project with the boy she was interested in. He had long black hair that he kept tied back, apparently so he could more easily glare at the people around them. He was taller than her, and was sarcastic when he spoke to her, but every time he looked at her, she swore his eyes softened slightly. And then he’d heard her in choir practice, and he had started lingering around the music room. And then they had started going out. It had been easy. Weirdly so. Simplistic. Like his hand was meant to fit around hers. Dating turned into graduation turned into career turned into life turned into –

Time slipped, and – 

They were staying up late at work. He was the snide, irritating coworker who got all his work done efficiently even if no one particularly liked him, and she was everyone’s favorite at the workplace, wore pink collared shirts and charmed all their clients. They were working on a particularly challenging issue together, corralled into a tiny conference room that had become littered with half-drunk cups of now-cold coffee and the remainder of the cookies that someone had left in the break room. It had gotten so late that the lights in the office building outside of the conference room had winked off, with no movement to keep them lit, and Annette had groaned about missing her favorite TV show, and Felix had rolled his eyes. They’d figured out the issue another hour in and Annette had fled the room, exhausted and ready to go home.

And the next time a big job came up, their boss asked them to work together again. And this time, maybe she felt her heart rate pick up slightly when he leaned over her shoulder to read what she’d been working on on her computer. And maybe she touched his arm, lingering slightly when she wanted to get his attention. And maybe he’d met her gaze for longer than would have been normal, and her lips parted slightly, and – and they’d finished the job in record time, and she’d gone home and wondered to herself.

The next time they came in the conference room with yet another finicky issue, and the time gradually ticked from late to later, and all the lights went out in the office besides their little room, Felix grabbed the arm of her rolling chair and pulled her toward him and kissed her. And then she slipped her arms around him and dragged him closer and his breathing hitched and they both really, really forgot about what they were supposed to be doing.

“Um,” she said, when sense had more or less returned to her, and she was refastening her shirt buttons, “Um, I think we should probably keep working. I think Dimitri said he wanted this done by the end of the week.”

He looked at her askance. “Or we could go home and keep working on this tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Annette paused. And then she wondered about the double entendre. “So, like, work on the job, or…?”

Felix grinned at her, a bit of a smirk. “Or what?”

“N-Nothing!” Annette flushed deeply. “Um, so, you – you can’t tell anyone about this, okay?”

He snorted. “I’m not getting HR involved, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“Right,” Annette said, taking in a deep breath. “Yep. Okay. Um, let’s call it a night and we’ll finish up tomorrow.”

The next day went slowly, and then they were in the conference room again, and it was getting later, and the numbers on her spreadsheet were blurring before her eyes because all she could recall was the man next to her making low noises in his throat as they kissed. And pulling her into his lap, and then he’d been working his hand up her shirt and –

“Annette,” Felix said.

“Yep!” She jolted upright, nearly knocking her coffee across her laptop keyboard. “Oh – oh, that was close.”

“Lost in thought?” he said. She couldn’t meet the gaze she knew was pressing into the side of her face.

“N-Nope,” she said, knowing that she was blushing despite herself. 

“You haven’t moved for about ten minutes,” Felix said. “You’re sure you don’t have something on your mind?”

She dared to look at him, and immediately regretted it. He looked very smug. (She was screwed. Annette was definitely, definitely in trouble.) Her mind stalled. “Um.”

He grinned, slowly. Very self-satisfied. “Well. Let me know if you want to share.”

Annette flushed deeper and turned back to her laptop, feeling even her ears grow red. What was she supposed to do? Annette was not the kind of person for reckless workplace… not-even-relationships. Annette was not the kind of person for _reckless,_ unless it was occasional kitchen disasters. This was terrible. This was not what she wanted. This was entirely dangerous, and probably against company policy. Ingrid, their HR rep, would scold them both. Maybe fire them. Or something.

She turned in her chair. “Felix?”

“Yes?” He looked at her. 

“Kiss me,” she said, and Felix’s smile went very wide.

“Sure you don’t want to keep working longer?” he asked, hand edging to the top of his laptop screen.

“Shut up,” she told him, even while she flushed red. 

He grinned and shut the laptop and then his lips had been on hers and she’d had his collar in her hands and pulled him closer.

The next night, he cleared his throat and asked if she wanted a drink when they were done with the project. She said yes almost before he had finished asking. The drink progressed into a series of dates. The dates progressed into a ring, into a marriage, into two children and a suburban home. It was exactly what she wanted. It was everything she wanted. 

And time slipped –- 

They were students together at an officer’s academy. He was a cold swordsman who claimed a complete lack of interest in magic, and she was an excellent mage. They’d been paired together so that she could teach him how to shoot lightning from his fingertips. They’d been paired together because they worked so well together, on the battlefield. He’d run into her in the greenhouse and heard her singing and she had hated him and then she had loved him, for he had loved her voice, and she had loved him for it. They had fought in a war.

And they had finished with the war. They had fought side-by-side for so long, seen so much death and destruction, and yet she was still standing strong as their final enemy surrendered. And he grasped her shoulder after the final battle and turned her around and then he had his hands on her, kissing her, and she pulled him closer as the soldiers were cheering, yelling, celebrating. They were safe. They were free. (“I love you,” she had said, and he had flushed. “I know.”) Pure, unadulterated happiness. Peace turned into a marriage turned into a family. Her father had cried at his first grandchild. 

Time slipped – 

They were nobles in a formal, royal court. He was the untouchable Duke of Fraldarius who refused every marriage offer. She was the daughter of a disgraced knight who never had been able to attend a ball or formal social event in her life. But then, one autumn evening, someone had pushed a letter under the door of the small house she’d shared with her mother and father. And this letter had contained an invitation to the social event of the season, addressed to “Annette, Miss Outsider”. 

Her father had worried about what on earth the words had meant, and her mother had scolded him for worrying, and Annette had sat there and examined the embossed stationary that invited her to the Court for the yearly Winter Ball – a three-day affair, which every important person in the land attended – and had tried oh-so-very hard not to shiver with excitement. Technically noble, she could attend, and she had an invitation. 

And attend she did. Annette knew that she would be out of place at the event. She had no dress; nothing beautiful enough, anyways. Their family was not rich, despite the title, and she knew nothing she owned would invite anything other than a scoff. But she had gone anyways, dressed in the best clothes she had, and resigned herself to having to travel on foot because the only carriage that her father possessed was under repairs. Despite the unfortunate circumstances, and despite the fact that Annette knew – in her heart of hearts – that she really did not belong at this event, regardless of her noble title, she could still be excited, even if not thrilled by the long walk ahead of her.

Her walk was long, travelling through a winding path within the forests leading up to the estate – to the Margrave’s estate, one of the noble houses that ran their country – at which the ball would be held. Carriages, each ornate and stunning, hurtled past her every few minutes, their inhabitants likely scoffing at her as they passed. Annette gritted her teeth and kept walking. Because she would have fun, tonight. All other nobles be damned.

Annette was doing her best to keep her dress out of the way of the wheels of the carriages that hurried past when she suddenly looked up to see a young blonde woman storming away from the estate before them. It was as though the woman had somehow thrown herself from her carriage and given up on attending the event. It was truly a shame, Annette reflected for a half-second, mouth slightly agape. Because she was clad in a gown that was truly something stunning. Silver as the moon, as flattering as anything in the world could be, the woman was truly a sight to behold. 

The woman’s expression, however, was downright murderous.

“By the Gryphon,” the woman said, apparently to herself. “What _is_ all of this?”

“Are… you alright?” Annette hazarded as the woman approached her. The blonde froze and looked up at her. Annette blinked at the sudden, bizarre recognition in the woman’s face, even though Annette had never seen her before.

“Are you going to the ball?” the blonde asked, eyes narrowing slightly at her.

Annette cleared her throat. “Well. I don’t have much to wear, so maybe it doesn’t _look_ like it, but I do have an invitation, you know –”

“Good.” She quickly grasped Annette’s arm and began herding her to a copse of trees on the side of the road. “You’ll get to benefit from this, then. I can’t _stand_ these clothes. Or balls.”

As soon as they reached the shelter of the trees, the woman released Annette’s arm, which by now was smarting slightly, and instead reached for her stays. And Annette’s mouth dropped open again as the woman began to – to strip. On the side of the road. With carriages rolling by. 

Annette hurried in front of her, as though to block her from prying eyes, because even though they were hidden by trees, she was _undressing._ “Um! Um, miss –”

“Well, do you want to wear this or not?” The blonde woman was now wearing only a shift, raising her eyebrows at Annette as the silvery, diaphanous mess of the dress was half-spread on the ground, half in her arms. “Gryphon knows you probably will enjoy wearing it more than I do.”

Annette gaped at her. “Wh… What. Why –”

“Consider it a favor,” the woman said, her braided hair now slightly mussed from forcibly pulling herself from yards of fabric. “Come on. You did say you have nothing to wear, so get dressed. You’re a bit smaller than me, but we’ll make it work.”

“Who are you?” Annette said, blinking at her. “I mean – why would you just – this dress has to be worth more than anything I own. Maybe more than my family’s carriage, or our –”

“Consider it a favor for someone else,” the woman said, and something in her expression softened slightly. “Besides. Don’t you want to look nice tonight? I won’t ask anything in return. I promise.”

Something in the woman’s green eyes was trustworthy, and Annette, despite herself, pulled off her best dress and began to pull on the silvery fabric. It floated, light as a spring breeze, around her, and Annette felt herself gasp as the woman did up the lacing at the back. The hem only barely floated on the ground.

“How does it fit me?” Annette asked, looking up at her in shock. “You have to be several inches taller – ”

“Don’t question it,” the woman said. “Go enjoy yourself.”

Annette, oddly, found herself following the woman’s words. For it did feel perfect, somehow. Like the dress was intended to fit closely around her all along. And it wasn’t like the blonde woman knew who she was. She would likely never see her again, and if the woman decided to collect on this sudden, insane debt, it was unlikely she would ever find her again. 

She hurried away from the outskirts of the trees and kept walking along the path to the estate. Eventually, the magnificent house came into view, lined with opulent windows and columns and all other marks of nobility. The large path in front of the house was lined with the bustle of polite society, who were all hurriedly descending from their carriages. Annette threaded her way through the crowd, by now breathing a bit hard, but still successfully managing to avoid horses and footmen and the thick tang of rosewater perfume. 

Finally, Annette ascended the steps to the almost palatial entryway. A footman paused her at the door, gently holding his hand out to block her. “Miss…?”

“Um.” Annette cleared her throat, his unspoken question mostly forgotten at the sight before her. 

Directly past the entrance, the ballroom stretched out before her, stunning and intricate, threaded with what looked like silken streamers along the ceilings and with huge masses of flowers in garlands across the room. The floors were inlaid in intricate patterns with various, rare colors of marble, and the hum of an orchestra in the back of the room was almost drowned out by the loud, cascading noises of chatter. The ballroom was a hive of silken dresses, each embroidered carefully, of feathers in the hair, of the most powerful men and women in the country, bowing carefully to one another in elaborate dances, laughing over drinks. This was where deals were made, where young girls became women through the delicate machinations of arranged marriages. This was where politics began and ended. This was power itself.

“Miss?” the servant prodded her, not impolitely.

“Oh. Um. Miss Annette Dominic,” Annette said, suddenly pulled from her reverie, and the footman gestured to the man beside her, who repeated her name in a loud shout to the entire room. His words were loud, but the room barely registered them. Annette drew herself up to her full height and walked into the room.

People, and the rich, almost heady scent of strong perfume and strong liquor, flooded her senses. The voices were loud, some raucous and some polite and restrained. The throngs of people were almost overwhelming, and Annette very immediately remembered that she knew absolutely no one there.

“Hey now.” Annette paused, halfway to a small table laden with refreshments, when she heard a voice that was – somehow, she just knew it was – directed to her. As if she had heard the voice before.

She turned to see a man in a black suit, his red hair slightly mussed and his cheeks slightly reddened – though from drink or dancing or a combination of both, she did not know. And she did not recognize him, and yet somehow she did, though she did not know his name. “What is a beautiful young lady like yourself doing here, instead of being out on the dance floor?”

Annette paused. It was honestly rather improper, for him to come up to her and speak with her without being introduced. “Um, excuse me, Mr. …?

“Margrave Sylvain Gautier, at your service, madam,” the man said, bowing quickly. Annette froze in place. This – This was the owner of this entire estate. And this, clearly, must be why she had recognized him, for he was famous. Important. And he was apparently talking to her.

“Oh, Margrave, please forgive me for not recognizing you,” Annette said quickly, “I apologize –”

“Now, now, Miss Dominic, it’s all water under the bridge, if you would join me for a dance,” the man said, stepping quickly up to her and taking her hand. Annette froze for a second – for she had not properly introduced herself.

But then he was pulling her efficiently – and somehow still politely – to the center of the ballroom, and the small band to the back of the room began a quadrille, and they were moving. 

Dancing. Annette was in her element, suddenly, all other thoughts firmly washed away by the quick pace of the steps. The man she was dancing with was actually – satisfyingly – very good at dancing, and even though he was so much taller than her, he clearly had some experience matching his paces to someone shorter, and the music was the perfect accompaniment to their movements. She knew she was grinning widely before the Margrave commented on it.

“Now, Miss Dominic, what brings you to this event of mine and makes you smile like that?” the Margrave asked, in between steps. Annette blinked, opening her mouth without an answer, but the man continued, firmly pulling her alongside him in time to the music. “Or, should I say, who? I think I can guess, but I’m sure he would appreciate you telling him yourself.”

“What?” Annette blinked. “What do you mean?”

The Margrave smiled so widely at her he practically winked. “Hm. I wonder.”

“What do you mean, Margrave?” Annette repeated, so confused as to ask the question forcefully, but then the dance was over, and he bowed quickly to her and walked away, leaving her in the center of the room. 

Music began again, a slower dance this time – a waltz, Annette recognized quickly, and she began to hurry from the dance floor, for she was entirely without a partner and it would be rather embarrassing to just be _standing_ there, in the center of the room by herself.

Suddenly, a hand caught her arm. “Wait.”

Annette turned quickly, surprised, to see – to see a man who – 

(Words rushed in her mind – “Sure you don’t want to keep working longer?” “Don’t act so smug about it.” “Like hell would I do it because I _felt bad_ ” – and she was dipping her face to his as she sat just astride him, his hands tracing down her sides to her hips, leaving trails of tingling heat – )

And she saw a man whom she didn’t recognize. His eyes on hers were almost reddish, and somehow so focused as to be almost hot on hers. His hair was long, and black, and partially in his eyes. Annette blinked at him, feeling herself swallow at the intensity of his gaze despite herself. “Um, sir?”

The man’s expression shuttered slightly at that, but he cleared his throat. “Dance?”

“What?” Annette heard the word but was struggling to register his intent. The couples around them had all begun to move in tandem already. A passing ballgown brushed against the back of Annette’s dress. 

“Dance with me,” the man said, and it was not really a request. And for some reason, Annette could not find it in her to politely decline.

It was this way that Annette found herself with her hand in his, and his hand against her waist, and moving (more stiffly than her last dance partner) in a preordained pattern throughout the room. 

“Um, excuse me,” Annette began, stiltedly, because she at least deserved a fraction of propriety, despite being no one of any importance in the court. “Um, can I… have your name?”

The man almost missed a step of the dance. “Felix.” Annette waited for a last name, and he finally added it. “Fraldarius.”

It was Annette’s turn to miss a step. There was only one person who she knew of with that name. It was an ancient family line, closely connected to the royal family itself. “Fr-Fraldarius? You’re – Are you Duke Fraldarius?”

The man coughed. He looked somewhat embarrassed by this. “Yes.”

Annette could not help herself. Her steps became less fluid at the knowledge of who her partner was. If the rumors were true, he despised the majority of the court, avoided social affairs, and scowled at anyone who looked in his direction. 

And yet he had asked her to dance.

“Nothing tonight makes sense,” Annette said, mostly to herself.

The Duke, for some reason, cracked a tiny smile. “Apparently you don’t understand your mind yourself.”

“What?” Annette looked up at him.

He shook his head. “Never mind.”

They had danced. And then they had talked. And danced again – dancing so many times as to have been clearly turning heads, for he was an important person, and no one knew who she was. And he had taken her out to one of the small balconies to the side of the ballroom and they had talked longer, about everything and nothing, and his eyes on hers were somehow knowing. Like he already knew exactly who she was, and he would not push her away.

And then the clock rang at one in the morning, and the dance was over.

Annette had hurried home, remembering where she had left her own formal clothes in the shadow of the trees, and had folded the beautiful dress and left it on the ground, unwilling to benefit from such a rich gift.

And the next day, she had returned to the ball.

The blonde woman had been hurrying away from the ballroom in the same way as the night before, had caught Annette by the arm and had traded dresses with Annette, this time handing Annette a golden masterpiece of a ballgown that looked almost as though it caught any glimmer of light and reflected it. Like the sun itself.

And this time when she entered the ballroom, heads turned. Annette was not so self-important as to believe it was for any other reason than the dress. And the Duke found her again. And so they danced.

It was sudden, the ever-increasing depth of her feelings for him. Though she knew the court must be looking at them, and though she knew there were likely rumors flying, it felt as though time hung in place when his hands were on her, when they were talking. He spoke at length of his family – his brother, now dead, and his father, who had died only a few years before. She spoke of hers – of her father, with his obsession with training the next generation of their family’s militia, and of her mother, and of some of her friends. He expounded at length to her of the annoyances of being a duke, and his fascination with swordsmanship. She had smiled and laughed, and every single time he smiled back at her, her heart was caught in his hands.

And the clock rang at one in the morning, and the dance was over.

The next day, the blonde woman’s dress was white and pearlescent, stunning, glittering like the stars in the sky above them – so perfectly beautiful so that Annette stopped her, this time.

“I can’t take this one,” Annette said.

“You can, and you will,” the woman said, already pulling herself out of it. Small pieces of her hair caught on the multitude of seed pearls that had been strung to the dress as though they cost no more than the cheapest grains of rice. “Try not to question it.”

“How can I not question this?” Annette asked. “I mean – you just left the ball, and you’re just giving me a dress that must cost a small fortune? How can I repay you for this?”

The blonde woman sighed. “I can’t tell you why. Take the dress, Annette, and go.”

Annette dressed, and this time when she entered the ballroom, a hush descended. Annette froze momentarily – and then kept walking into the room, head high. For the Duke’s eyes were on her, too – and he walked up to her and took her hand as she entered.

“Duke Fraldarius,” she said, politely, aware of the stares they were still attracting.

“Felix,” he said, flatly.

“What?” she asked, blinking at him.

“Stop calling me ‘Duke,’” he said. 

“F-Felix, then,” Annette said, and was rewarded momentarily by him turning to look at her.

“Let’s go somewhere more private,” he said, and instead of taking her to the dance floor, he threaded them through the crowded room, through the throngs of faces that suddenly – suddenly Annette felt as though she knew - (a man with glowing green eyes and a cheeky smile, a woman with light blue hair and a gentle, flushing face, a pink-haired woman with thick pigtails, who winked at her as they passed, a silvery-haired boy with freckles) – until they reached a drawing room, somewhere in the recesses of the Margrave’s house. 

“We – We probably shouldn’t be here,” Annette said, flushing. Because they were entirely alone. The room was darkened, the candles unlit. 

“Sylvain owes me about seventy favors,” Felix said – and somehow it was easy, to drop the title, and consider him just Felix, as though they had known each other for so much longer than two nights. “He’ll put up with it.”

He fiddled with a small candelabra on the table before them, clearly trying to find a match on the table. His broad shoulders. The way his black hair was swept around his face. The furrow in his brow, as he focused on what he was doing. His unexpectedly reliable nature, that somehow she just knew of. The way he looked at her whenever they met eyes.

“I love you,” she said. Felix stopped in place for a second, rigid, and then turned to look at her. She grinned, trying to fight the nerves. The lines of his face were unexpectedly soft. Vulnerable. He took a pace closer to her, as though to see her expression better.

“You’ve told me that before,” he said, and his voice was quiet. 

“What?” Annette blinked. For she had never spoken the words aloud. For they had known each other for two days, and this was beyond improper. And yet he truly looked so unsurprised.

Felix’s expression shifted somewhat, as though some small vulnerable part of him suddenly fled from her. “You – without words, I mean.”

“Oh.” She nodded, slowly, feeling a small flush gather along her cheeks. “I – I guess I know what you mean. It… feels like I always have. Loved you, I mean. Somehow.”

He froze again, hand halfway to her face, and then, unexpectedly, flushed deeply and turned away.

“What?” Annette flushed even darker at his sudden embarrassment. “Um! Don’t – don’t leave a lady hanging like this.”

“How do you say something like that with a straight face?” Felix said, almost complaining. His ears were even tinged red. “No shame.”

“W-Well, excuse me!” Annette crossed her arms quickly. “I – Isn’t the man supposed to say this first, or something? I – I’m putting myself out here, and you’re just – leaving me hanging!”

A second passed. Felix let out a deep breath. Annette could feel her nerves mounting every fraction of that second, feeling her heart pound.

And then Felix turned back to her and pulled her close to him, looping an arm around her waist. “Can’t you tell how I feel by now?”

“Um?” Annette was not entirely able to get much else out, at his sudden closeness, at the way the doors to the room were open wide, and they were alone, and unmarried, and she was unable to think much more clearly as Felix pressed a kiss to her lips and then set his head on her shoulder.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” he asked, quietly. 

“Spe-” Annette let out a squeak instead as he turned his head and nipped at the side of her neck instead. 

Annette flushed as his lips descended to the bend of her neck into her collarbone. “U-Um. F-Felix, this is –”

And now his lips were on her neck again and she shifted slightly against him, feeling her hands tighten on his back – and she caught a glance of the open door again, entirely open, for any servant or passing individual to walk by and see them, and forced herself to carry on, “Entirely improper –”

“And now you decide to have shame?” Felix muttered quietly into her skin.

“We’re in the middle of a drawing room!” Annette hissed, as his lips trailed even further down. “This – this isn’t – isn’t your house!”

Felix sighed, his breath fanning across her skin. “Did I get my point across?”

“Yes, yes, just – ” Annette shoved him off of her with no little difficulty – “Really –”

“Really, what?” Felix raised his eyebrows, expression entirely too smug to be any part ashamed. “I thought that was a part of marriage.”

“You – We’re not married,” Annette said, seizing on the only fact she was certain of in the situation.

“Then let’s be married,” Felix said, casually. “You love me. I’ve made my feelings clear. I’ll get you a ring. Is that what you want?”

“What I want?” Annette flushed.

“Is it?” Felix repeated.

Annette cleared her throat, trying very hard to fight the rising sense of almost heady jubilation. “Well. I mean. If it… If… I mean… Yes. If you want to.”

“Then it’s done.” Felix lifted her hand to his lips. “Duchess Fraldarius.”

Annette flushed dark red. “Th-That. You – that’s unfair.”

“What is?” Felix threaded her arm through his. “I think I have a ring I can find. You don’t mind family crests, do you?”

“Crests?” Annette asked. 

Felix grinned, somehow entirely pleased with himself. “I don’t need to ask. I know you’ll like it.”

And she did like it. Engagement turned to marriage turned to long, golden years. After all the hurry and bustle around the balls, and the courtship, and the silly banalities of life, somehow it settled into a natural rhythm as though this had happened so many times before. 

There was no rush. They had all the time in the world. It was just him, and her, and years, and years, and years to spend with each other – 

Time – 

They were kissing in their room. A motion so familiar, so achingly sweet. She was seated mostly on his lap, and the sunlight was streaming in through the curtains behind them. It was another beautiful, perfect day, and she had absolutely nowhere to be. 

After another second, they parted, and she looked at him. The fall of his hair over his forehead, arcing down to graze his eyebrow, his cheekbone. The curve of his lips. The line of his jaw. The slant of his nose. His eyes, warm on hers. An endless stream of days of perfect bliss. Time, unending.

And suddenly she knew. With perfect, perfect clarity.

“This isn’t real,” she said. “Is it?”

Felix’s expression, to his credit, wavered only for a second. He shut his eyes. His mouth thinned, the smallest furrow in his brow. And then he opened his eyes and met her gaze without preamble. “No. It isn’t real.”

Annette looked at him. She could feel the physical, tangible weight of him against her. She could feel the warmth of his shirt. She lifted a hand and touched his cheek, barely noticing her fingers trembling. His skin was smooth and warm beneath hers. She slid her fingers through his hair, feeling its texture without thinking. Felix met her gaze, and she could see, at their short distance, the slightest redness to his eyes, to his nose. Or maybe it was just her, and the tears welling in her eyes, distorting her vision, coming on all at once.

“But it is real, too,” she said, and her voice was watery even to her own ears. “Isn’t it.”

Felix’s face turned to her palm against his head and kissed it. His lips against her palm were solid. They had form. He had shape and form against her, and his hand was on her waist, still. She could feel every finger. The tears began to fall, wet and hot against her face. They left dark stains on his clothing, dotting his shirt and her shirt, cooling quickly against her skin.

“It is.” He looked at her again, and she blinked the tears away to clear her vision. 

She felt his hand lace around her wrist where her hand had fallen from his face to his chest. He grasped the hand and held it in his, lowering it slightly. She looked at her hand in his, and he squeezed it lightly. Tears, unbidden, fell from her eyes to their hands, on her legs, on his legs. She looked up to meet his gaze.

Felix’s eyes were soft on hers. “I love you.”

Annette began to cry in earnest, choking on the sobs as they came, tears running in multiple streams down her face. She shook her head quickly from side to side, because she couldn’t hear this, not now, not when she was realizing this was the first time he had said it, and Felix released her hand and waist to catch her head between his hands – not tightly, just gentle pressure. She shut her eyes, because she couldn’t see him – not now. And she couldn’t let him see her – not like this. 

“I have – I have to g-go,” Annette said, hiccupping, shuddering to take in a breath. “I – I can- I can’t –”

“I know.” Felix’s voice was even.

“I – I have to wake – to wake up.” Annette shook her head, slightly. “G-Goddess, I – I can’t – I can’t st-stay.”

Felix shifted before her and she opened her eyes slightly as she felt him press a kiss to her forehead. She ducked her head, knocking her forehead against his chin, as another sob wracked her. 

Mercedes. The word came to her, finally accompanied by everything it meant. Her best friend. Her sister. Her favorite person, in the whole, wide world. 

“I – I have to g-go,” she choked out, again, and she was leaning against his chest, now. Felix’s arms settled very gently around her. 

“I know.” He didn’t push. He wasn’t fighting, or begging, or questioning. He was sitting there. And even so, leaving was – leaving was – it was snapping her from the inside. Her tears were leaving a growing damp imprint against his shirt.

“I – I can’t – I can’t stay.”

Felix didn’t move, didn’t argue. She pressed herself further against him, the terrible wracking force of her sobs curling her over herself. There was no use saying anything. 

But she couldn’t stay. She couldn’t stay. 

“I –” Annette fought with herself, feeling the weight in her chest crack. “I give this up.”

Felix hadn’t said anything to this, but his hands had tightened around her for a second – and then  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Annette felt a damp, terrible pressure in her throat and choked. Scrabbling at the ground below her, she reeled herself into a half-propped up position, coughing, spluttering, coughing, and retching. Finally, with a horrible noise, the object came from her throat. Greenish and yellow and molded. It was a bite of a peach.

Annette looked at it for a second, and retched again, dry heaving, and quickly sat up to get herself away from the thing, only to feel the sudden urge to vomit rise within her. This time, she threw up in earnest, acidic, watery fluid that smelled astringent. It came from her for several seconds, until the compression in her stomach and chest was bringing up only saliva, barely anything, and then the retching ceased.

She sat up, woozy, spat on the ground to try to remove the last of… whatever that had been. 

And she froze. Goddess.

Annette remembered. 

Because that fruit hadn’t shown her Mercie. Perhaps it couldn’t. Perhaps the fruit couldn’t show you the part of your dreams that included the person you were attempting the trials for. But had shown her a family with her father, who had never left, who loved her sincerely, who was a part of her family. It had shown her a life with friends – people from classes, people from her experiences in the Court. It had shown her a life where she had a fulfilling career. But more than any of these things, it had shown her, over, and over, and over again, the same scenario. The same scene, in so many perfect, terrible ways. The same person. The fruit had shown her her dreams. 

And she had said no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have mixed feelings about the ball scene, but it is meant to be more confusing/less ‘real’ (i.e. it is significantly less realistic/has less internal consistency) than the others, as 1) it’s fairytale inspired and 2) Annette is slowly starting to figure out that she is in a dream. The weird pacing is a part of this, although i do realize this all sounds like an excuse lol
> 
> Anyways. Hope you enjoyed the longest chapter I've ever written, my ridiculous AU of AUs. Thanks for sticking through it!


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